Eternal Sorrow
by MISAKA 11235
Summary: There is just one Dragon Priest not presiding over a tomb complex. Instead, it was entombed on a mountain. Alone with a dragon, and it was probably not there purely for company. And now, the one who rebelled has been awoken, only to find her homeland ensnared in civil war, occupied by foreign forces, and changed beyond recognition...
1. Awakening

**Format:**

_Thoughts_

_"Dovahzul"_

"Common speech"

It…no, she remembered only fragments. She was on the peak of a mountain. Covered in wounds, surrounded, hopelessly outnumbered. Charging forward into the horde, frost magic leading the way with one hand, sword swinging with the other. Then, her magicka sputtered and died as she ran out. Finally, surrounded by numerous corpses of her foes, frozen and cut down, she was bound by magic. Her soul torn out from her flesh and forcefully imprisoned in her cooling corpse. Then…nothing.

== Scene Break ==

It was so long ago, and when one is trapped in a corpse, the passage of time can prove rather difficult to grasp. So she was surprised when she felt a ward trigger, one that she did not even know exist. And just like that, her binding was broken.

Second surprise of the day (or perhaps, night) came when she opened her eyes. Good thing is she can still see. Not so good is the fact that she seems to be stuck in a…..sarcophagus. One with a massive, heavy lid. For a moment, she panicked. Was she going to awake, just to find herself stuck in this oversized coffin forever?

Then she remembered. _For Akatosh's sake… I am a fool. Am I or am I not a Dragon Priest? _"_Fus!_" And there goes the lid, flying off into the bright midday sky…._Damned sun in my face! _She got up, levitated herself out of the coffin, and for the first time since the Second Era, the Dragon Priest known as Krosis laid her eyes once more upon Skyrim. Then, a blade, black as night, entered her view, heading straight for her head in an overhead slash…

By reflex, she raised her staff to deflect the blow, and the sword glanced off, striking a nearby boulder. She took the opportunity to observe her "welcoming party" – a tall, well-built warrior clad in a suit of gleaming ebony armour, who is currently hunkered down behind his shield and cautiously waiting for her to retaliate. _Well, he did attack me first, _Krosis thought, and proceeded to send a fireball at her opponent with the staff she was holding.

_And since when did I own a Staff of Fireballs?_ _I'm a frost Dragon Priest…_

The spell detonated harmlessly against the shield, which glowed in response. _Hmm…an enchanted shield, I see… _

At this point, Krosis finally had a good look at her own hand, the one holding the staff, and her mind screeched to a halt. The hand was blackened, shriveled, and skeletal in appearance, having only a thin layer of leathery skin covering the bones beneath. Looking down, she realized her robes, if they can still be called that, had not fared better either. All that was left were strips of faded silk, and the iron plates worn over were mostly rusted and for some, outright missing. _Just how long was I imprisoned?_

She was violently brought out of her thoughts when the warrior, apparently tired of waiting, charged forward into her, shattering the staff and sending her flying. She landed and immediately tried to get up, but before she can fully recover, she found the unforgiving surface of the shield right in her face, and moments from impact. She fell backwards…and continued falling, having been knocked off a nearby ledge. _This is going to hurt…_ she thought. As she looked up, she saw the helmeted face of the warrior looking back down at her, as if to taunt her defeat. In a final moment of unrestrained anger, she held up both her hands and sent a pair of ice spikes back up. To her great satisfaction, both hit home, one piercing through the warrior's chest and the other abruptly knocking back his head. Then, her own head impacted the rocks at the foot of the mountain.

As her vision faded into darkness, Krosis saw a suspiciously familiar-looking bronze dragon fly off from the mountain…

== Scene Break ==

When Krosis once again regained consciousness, it was night time. Also, an individual clad in odd-looking leather armour was riffling through her robes and touching her at places he was most definitely _not_ supposed to touch. Alarmed and very much infuriated by the blatant outrage of modesty, she sat up and slapped him, sending him flying into a nearby snow pile. _Though, given the time passage, social norms might have changed. But still…_ she thought, as she stood up and prepared an ice spike in her right hand, just in case he decided to attack her as well. Then, she floated slowly nearer to him, deciding that she may as well get some information from him.

_"Who are you?"_

\- POV change -

As he flew towards the snow pile, Duilius Barbatius only had one thought in his mind. _Did I just get slapped by a Dragon Priest? _Oh yes, he definitely knew the Draugr lying dead (or so he originally thought) at the foot of Shearpoint Peak was a Dragon Priest. After helping his "fellow Legionnaire" clear out Forelhost, Duilius could recognise one from miles away. Fluttering robes and weird-looking masks on a floating corpse tend to be rather obvious. And an active Dragon Priest was _bad news_.

He hurriedly got up, drawing his Imperial sword and turning to face his opponent. But, instead of getting a face-full of the Dragon Priest's favourite Destruction spell, Duilius saw said Dragon Priest merely floating towards him slowly, hands down (though the bluish-white glow around the right hand was starting to make him nervous). It stopped about an arm's length from him, and spoke, voice bearing the characteristic rasp of the Nord undead. _"Wo los hi?" _

_Say what?_, Duilius thought. Curious to see where this would go, he shook his head, and tried to reply, desperately remembering the few words he had heard from Paarthurnax and the Grey Beards. _"Tinvaak … ni … Dovah … krosis."_ At that, the Dragon Priest lowered its head and raised its left palm to cover its mask, and _sighed._ _Ah crap…was I **that** bad?_

\- POV change -

_"Speak … not … Dragon … apologies."_

As the man before her awkwardly ground out the first words she has heard since awakening, Krosis began to comprehend just how troublesome this conversation was going to be. The two of them probably did not share a language, considering she only knew Dovahzul, the Dragon Language, and he was apparently not remotely fluent in it. _At least he is polite._ _"Do you know anyone who speaks it?"_

\- POV change -

_"Dreh hi mindok naangein wo tinvaak Dovahzul?"_

_Now what?_ Duilius was starting to become exasperated. Clearly, this was not working. Still, the Dragon Priest seems genuinely interested in actual conversation, which is definitely good news for him. He had always thought the Draugr were merely mindless undead with only one purpose, to kill anyone who disturbs their rest. Apparently not.

He had no idea what it just said, but considering that firstly, it is still peaceful (glowing right hand aside) and secondly, it apparently understood him when he expressed his lingual incompetence, it was probably asking for a translator. And he knew exactly where to find one, though the actual logistics of getting there would be a nightmare. _Just how does one get a Draugr Dragon Priest to High-freaking-Hrothgar?_

"_Aak … wundun."_ Let's hope it still wants to talk after a **long** trek up a **tall** mountain.

\- POV change -

_"Guide … travel."_

_Alright… he wants me to follow him…I think._ Krosis was actually amused at the turn of events. Here's someone who is actually willing to help her, apparently. And that's with her looking like a reanimated corpse. To think of it, she probably **is** one_._ _Let's see where this goes. _Even if it all goes to Oblivion, she is still a Dragon Priest. And a very powerful frost mage.

As she silently floated after the man, she started thinking about her brief time after awakening, and what could happen next._ I wonder where we are going._

**Editted 27/03/15 - Formatting**

**A/N – So, I decided that I was kinda put out by the absolute lack of stories featuring dragon priests, and started doing up one when I was bored of schoolwork. Next thing I know, a draft went up onto this site.**

**Here's the new, improved (I hope), and lengthened version. Please review, because a) It may help me get better, leading to better reading for you people, and b) because I have finally come to savour the deliciousness of reviews. Seriously, press the button. Feed me! ^ ^**

**Special thanks to ****Someone Else Took My Name**** for the wonderfully constructive review. Apologies, but you _might_ have to wait a bit for more chapters. I'll try (say, once a month?), but no guarantees. Medical school is busy, like really busy. And I'm still trying to plan out a decent plot. _*Sheepish grin*_**

**And yes...the time-honoured, life-sustaining ritual. *clears throat* **

**_And it was thus declared, ownership shall not pass, of owned content within this story. All shall, rightfully, belong to the Creators (Bethesda Softworks). And a flag, aglow with the pale azure fires of the sky, is planted, spearing the bounded territories known henceforth as the Personality of Krosis and the Identity of Duilius Barbatius._**

**_And the ending of the words is ALMSIVI._**


	2. Beholding the Overlord

**Disclaimer: **

**Gah, I can't write Vivec-style, that's for sure. So, you will have to deal with the fragrant vanilla-ness of this one. No, I do not own Bethesda Softworks (Because if I do, ESO might have actually better servers. Is it really that bad?) **

It took two days, but they finally arrived at Ivarstead. Along the way, the unusual pair of travellers met a group of bandits. Duilius finally had a chance to see a Dragon Priest in battle, without being on the receiving end. After the bandits were disposed of in an absurdly short time using several ridiculously long ice spikes, he resolved to never get on its bad side. Those ice spikes looked **painful**.

\- POV change -

_How dare those men? Attacking us for no reason?_, thought Krosis, as she floated beside the odd man who had made himself her guide. In her left hand, she now held a plain iron sword that she had claimed from the attackers. _And which respectable warrior would even **think** of using iron weapons?_

As she looked around at the village they just arrived in, she found herself amazed at how oblivious the villagers were. While she was quite well covered up in a cloak that her travel companion had found for her, she was still blatantly floating. And she was quite sure that was not normal. _Not that she would lower herself to touch the dirt if she could help it._ So why was no one paying any attention?

\- POV change -

"Mother, look! That person is floating!" A young woman whispered to her mother.

"Oh, be quiet, Fastred. It's rude to stare at people!"

\- POV change -

After a brief exchange with Klimmek, ("Just the usual, make sure the Greybeards get their supplies.") Duilius once again began the Seven Thousand Steps. _To think of it, most Nords don't even get to make this pilgrimage of theirs, and here I am, on my third run._ Glancing back, he saw that the Dragon Priest was silently floating behind him, as it had been for the entire journey thus far. _I would ask if it was tired, but I doubt fatigue would even apply in this case._ Leaving that thought behind, he mentally prepared for the long, tiring climb, and continued walking.

_Let's hope there are no more trolls up there..._

== Scene Break ==

_Akatosh-damned beasts..._ thought Duilius as he backpedalled down the path, away from the swipe. Before him stood, not one, but **three** frost trolls, and all nine beady eyes were firmly trained on him. An ice spike passed right by his ear towards the first troll, only to shatter harmlessly against its hardened skin. _Oh right, frost resistance. I guess the Dragon Priest is quite useless for now..._ Then, he heard footsteps from behind. He turned around to see who it was, and his eyes widened.

The Dragon Priest was steadily walking towards the trolls and him, iron sword drawn and held in its right hand in a firm one-handed grip. Even though he couldn't see its face, from its posture, Duilius could tell that it was **pissed.** _Perhaps I'm wrong..._

At that moment, Duilius was promptly thrown back and landed hard on the ground as his opponent decided to capitalise on his inattentiveness to go for another swipe, this time actually scoring a hit on his shield._ I should really pay attention to my opponent..._

Then, the Dragon Priest charged, rushing past him.

\- POV change -

After decades of having her frost magic go unchallenged by all but the most powerful of her fellow Dragon Priests, Krosis was **insulted** by the fact that a mere beast was able to completely shake off her spell. In the back of her mind, she vaguely recalled that frost trolls, as suggested by their name, were obscenely frost-resistant. _Well, let's see you resist **this**! _And she moved in for the kill.

The troll that managed to knock back her companion swiped at her, but she ducked, avoiding the blow. Stepping forward, she braced the pommel of her sword with her left palm, and drove it straight into the troll's chest. It gave a gurgling cry, and looking up, she could see the light leave its three eyes as its muscles slackened. Before the corpse could weigh down her sword, she twisted the blade and pulled it free, following through with the momentum to cut across the face of a second troll which had tried to flank her from her left.

Losing two of its eyes, the troll stumbled back, roaring in pain. Then, the ground shook as the third troll came rushing in from the right. Krosis leaped back, blade held in a guard position, and watched as the second troll was knocked off the edge of the mountain, its final roar trailing off. Shaking itself back into awareness, the last troll turned to look at her and roared, bearing its sharp, yellowed teeth.

_Well, you can go join your brother down at the foot of the mountain._

Krosis rushed towards the troll. With a wide horizontal swing, she cut into its chest and drove it back a few steps. Then, it was **her** turn to roar. Power and voice became one, as the air before her rippled with an unstoppable force. _"Fus ro DAH!"_

The troll flew right off the cliff, lost in the mist shrouding the foot of the mountain.

\- POV change -

As he watched the last troll take flight, Duilius had only one thought. _Right. Dragon Priests can do **that** too..._

== Scene Break ==

After a brief break for Duilius to catch his breath and tend to his injuries, luckily just a couple of flesh wounds, the pair continued on with the last leg of their journey. At nightfall, they finally arrived at the doors of High Hrothgar. Duilius pushed open the heavy doors slightly to let themselves in, and as he entered the warm hall, let out a sigh of relief. _We finally arrived…_ and froze, as he became aware of four Greybeards staring at his direction in shock. By instinct, he took a step to the side, and finding that he wasn't the object of their attention, looked back.

The doors were wide open, and the Dragon Priest was standing right at the doorway, cloak whipping about in the wind. More importantly, its hood was lowered, revealing its mask in all its glory.

"What is this, and why have you brought it to our doorsteps, _Dovahkiin_?" Arngeir, the Greybeard, whispered.

== Scene Break ==

After explaining the situation to their hosts, Duilius was invited to join them for supper. The Dragon Priest had wandered off on its own, seemingly intrigued by the compound. When their meal ended, Arngeir made it clear that even the Greybeards could do little to help him.

"While we can translate what it says, it is unfeasible for it to stay in High Hrothgar. We do receive pilgrims and the occasional apprentice, and they will certainly be disturbed by its presence. Even now, we, the Greybeards, feel a sense of unease."

"Then what should I do?" asked Duilius.

"You will have to find your own path. That aside, is there anything else we can assist you with?"

"I need to defeat Alduin, and I need the Shout that was used."

At that, Arngeir stared at him in shock. "Where did you learn of that? Who have you been talking to?"

"From Alduin's Wall."

"Alduin's Wall … you were consorting with the Blades, weren't you? Of course. They have always sought to turn the Dragonborn from the path of wisdom. Have you learnt nothing from us?" Arngeir could only be described as incensed, and Duilius found it quite terrifying. "Are you a tool for the Blades, to be used for their own purposes?"

"Do you not wish to see the end of Alduin?"

"No, I do not. If it is Akatosh's will for the world to end, then it is not in my place to oppose that."

"So you will not help me?"

"I will not. We will speak of this no further…"

As Duilius turned to leave, feeling frustrated above anything, the walls of High Hrothgar rumbled. "_Arngeir, Rok los Dovahkiin, Strundu'ul. Rok fen tinvaak Paarthurnax_." _What was that?_

"Wait, Dragonborn."

"What is it?"

"I was … ill-tempered, and had let my own views prevent me from performing my duty. To aid you. Master Einarth had … reminded me of this. You have my apologies."

Duilius was surpised, considering how vehement Arngeir was just moments ago. "So you will help me?"

"Yes. Alas, I do not know the Shout you speak of, Dragonrend, and its origin was lost. But someone does. Paarthurnax, the master of our order. He will be able to better help you with your quest, if he chooses to."

"So where can I find him?"

"He resides at the top of this mountain. But it is late, and you need your rest, more so if you wish to continue on to the summit. Come speak with me tomorrow, and we shall find your way to Paarthurnax."

\- POV change -

Finding her presence at the meal rather pointless, due to her current … condition, Krosis found herself wandering the halls. _This is … fascinating._ The architecture of the compound intrigued her, for it bore a certain similarity to designs found in her time.

After some time wandering aimlessly, she encountered one of the scholars who were at the door earlier. _They must have finished with their meal._ As she glided pass the scholar, he looked up from the book he was reading and, placing the book down on a side table, stood.

"_Drem Yol Lok."_

Krosis stopped. _Did he just … greet me?_ She decided to find out. _"Greetings. How should I address you?"_

_"I am Master Einarth, of the Greybeards. Where you are currently at, we call it High Hrothgar. Allow me to welcome you."_

_The Greybeards, huh? "Thank you. Do excuse me, but I am unfamiliar with your … order."_

_"We, the Greybeards, are followers of the Way of the Voice. We dedicate ourselves to mastering the Thu'um as a means of honoring the gods."_

_"The Way of the Voice?"_

_"Yes. It is the creed of Jurgen Windcaller. After his meditation, it was revealed to him that the Thu'um is a means of worship, to be used for the glory of the gods. It is not a weapon, and to use it as such is to abuse this power."_

At this point, Krosis couldn't take it anymore, and burst out laughing. To Einarth, however, it came as a sudden burst of rasping and crackling, and was, frankly, quite disturbing. When she finally recovered, she stared at him.

_"Apologies, Master Einarth. But did you just say the Thu'um was a means of **worship**? I'm afraid you are mistaken. The Thu'um **is** a weapon." _

_"But…"_

_"Trust me on this; I have it on good authority." After all, we did worship the ones who used it in the first place. Dovah._

And with that, Krosis floated off, curious to see more of the compound and very amused at the misconceptions being bandied about here. Leaving behind a rather flustered Greybeard.

_So this is an order dedicated to the learning of her tongue._ Krosis was pleasantly surprised to find that there are people who still speak _Dovahzul_. _Even if it's just a bunch of old men with their heads up in the clouds…_

== Scene Break ==

The following morning found Krosis standing at the cliff edge of High Hrothgar's courtyard, appreciating the excellent view of the sunrise. Suddenly, the silence was broken by soft footsteps, coming from behind her. Quietly, she casted the Aura Whisper shout. _"Lass yah nir…" So, he's back._ Without turning, she cleared her throat, startling the approaching Einarth.

"_Greetings, Greybeard. You do have a rather pleasant view of the sunrise from your courtyard. How do you fare this day?"_

Recovering from the surprise of being detected with such ease, Einarth continued his approach, stopping beside her. _"Greetings to you, Dragon Priest. I am quite well, thank you. And you are right, that we do. One of the few pleasures of life afforded to us hermits, I suppose."_

Then, he turned to face her. _"Do excuse me, but I have yet to ask about your identity. Who are you exactly? I recognise the mask of a priest from the Dragon Cult of old, but to bear one as distinct as yours…"_

_"I am Krosis." _

Einarth's eyes widened in surprise.

_"Faal Tahrodiis?"_

At that, Krosis turned to return the Greybeard's gaze. _"Is that what they call me in the records? The Treacherous? How… ironic, considering it was I who was betrayed. But no matter, I suppose none of my peers have survived the passage of time. We were, after all, mortal. But yes, I am … was a Dragon Priest."_

_"I see. In that case, I have further reason to defer to your knowledge of the Thu'um, then. You have my apologies for last night. I spoke out of turn."_

Krosis would have smiled, if she could do so. _It does feel nice to be respected, I actually missed it._ _"No matter. If the path of peace is the one you choose, who am I to dissuade you? Besides, it is nice to see such a potent form of destruction used for something other than tearing the earth asunder."_

_"I do have a question, though."_

_"What is it?"_

_"Is Alduin truly the end of this world? Is it really Akatosh's will for us to end?"_

At that, Krosis tilted her head. _Interesting, is he not as pessimistic as his fellows? "I do not pretend to know the intentions of Akatosh, for he is truly divine. But do bear in mind, Alduin is a mortal dragon… well, as mortal as a dragon can be. He may be powerful, but definitely not divine." _

_"I see. Thank you, for clearing my doubts." _Then, Krosis faintly heard the sound of doors opening. _"It is best that we join the others. I believe it is the Dragonborn's intention for you to accompany him to the summit, to his audience with our leader, Paarthurnax."_

_"Very well…hold on, did you just say Paarthurnax?" _

== Scene Break ==

As they approached the others at the gateway before the path to the summit, they were greeted by the sight of the Dragonborn staring intently at ground. Upon further inspection, there appear to be carvings on the ground before him. _Clear Skies, isn't it? They could have just asked._

\- POV change -

Just as Duilius finished absorbing the knowledge contained in the words before him, he heard footsteps approaching.

"Excellent timing, Master Einarth. We are just teaching the Dragonborn the Clear Skies Shout. Would you mind sharing your knowledge of the Shout with him?"

Einarth nodded and, moving to position himself before Duilius, bowed. Years of accumulated knowledge flowed from Master to apprentice, a stream of warm, multicoloured energy. After a moment, the flow ended, and as Duilius opened his eyes, they shone with the light of newly-acquired knowledge.

"You are now ready, Dragonborn. Approach the gateway before you, and clear the path with the Clear Skies Shout."

Duilius nodded, and stepped forward. _"Lok Vah Koor!" _A shockwave smashed into the wind barrier that blocks the gateway before him, shattering it and driving away the blizzard that followed.

\- POV change -

Krosis floated forward to meet Einarth, who was stepping back after the transfer. _"What was that?"_

_"I was transferring my understanding of the words to the Dragonborn. For one to utilise a Shout, one must be able to combine the knowledge of the words themselves as well as comprehend the meaning behind them. _

_"While a common man may require years of meditation to sufficiently comprehend the concepts necessary, the Dragonborn is able to … acquire the meaning from a soul with possesses said knowledge. Usually, he would do so by consuming a dragon's soul, but the Greybeards are also able to… volunteer this comprehension."_

Hearing this, the gears in Krosis's mind began to turn. _"Is it possible to transfer knowledge not related to Thu'ums?"_

_"I suppose you are referring to the knowledge of the common tongue?" _

Krosis nodded.

_"In theory, yes. However, you must realize that thus far, we have been transferring only a small amount of knowledge via this method, merely our comprehension of single words. The volume of knowledge needed to comprehend, and speak, a whole new language would be too great, and I'm afraid that either of our bodies may not be able to handle such a transfer. At least, I'm certain that **my** body would be destroyed before the transfer is completed."_

Hearing this, Krosis sighed. _"So, I supposed I'll have to learn it the hard way?"_

_"Perhaps not. Paarthurnax, whom I suppose you are familiar with, may be able to perform such a transfer."_

_That makes sense, _thought Krosis._ A dragon's body is much more resilient than that of a man. "I'll raise it up later when I meet him, then."_

_"I suppose so. I hope you are able to resolve your issue soon. Still, is it not time you departed on your journey?"_

Indeed, the path to the summit was unblocked, and the Dragonborn had begun ascending the steps leading to their destination.

Nodding her head towards Einarth in goodbye, Krosis glided forward silently, taking her place once more behind her travelling companion.

== Scene Break ==

By the time they reached the summit, the sun had progressed from just above the horizon to right above their heads. Along the way, the blizzard returned several times as the effects of the Shout wore off, forcing Duilius to renew it. They also encountered yet another frost troll, as well as several ice wraiths. Having no further patience to deal with it, Duilius took a page from the Dragon Priest's book, and Shouted the frost troll off the mountain. As for the ice wraiths? Let's just say the Dragon Priest acquired several teeth from them, for purposes unknown. _Probably alchemy._

As they approached the end of the path, it opened up to a flat snow-covered field, dominated by a Word Wall that was, curiously, wordless. Duilius stepped forward warily, glancing around for any signs of an impending ambush, while the Dragon Priest followed silently behind.

Suddenly, a gust of wind descended upon the field, sending snow flying. Shielding his eyes with a hand, Duilius looked around for the source, and saw the Dragon Priest looking upwards. Following its example, he glanced up at the sky and found a dragon circling them. Alarmed, his right hand reached for the sword hanging from the left side of his hip, as his left reached behind to the shield on his back. Then, a blackened, shrivelled hand held his right wrist gently, stopping him from drawing his sword.

As the dragon landed, one could see certain differences compared to other dragons. For a being that's supposedly timeless, it certainly looked aged. Its bronze scales were dulled to near grey, the skin webbing of his tail and wings tattered, and its eyes were clouded.

Duilius prepared to step forward, but the Dragon Priest was one step ahead of him.

_"Paarthurnax."_

\- POV change –

_"Paarthurnax", _Krosis called out. _"Time had not been kind to you. How have you been?"_

The dragon turned to face her, and if her years of living alongside its kind were anything to go by, its expression was one of confusion. _"Are you...Krosis? But, how? Last I've heard, you fell in battle at Shearpoint."_

_"I did. I got better too. But not by much, apparently."_

_"In any case, it is good to see you once more. What can I do for you this day?"_

At this point, Krosis sighed. _"It is obvious to me that I would have to learn the tongue spoken these days, and your...follower down at High Hrothgar suggested that I come to you for help."_

_"I see. It is indeed possible for me to transfer the knowledge to you. However, it will take some time. Perhaps later on, after I see to the request of your companion."_

_"Very well."_ Krosis bowed, and took a step back.

\- POV change –

Paarthurnax turned to face Duilius. "Finally, we meet. What can I do for you, _Dovahkiin_?"

Duilius stepped forward, bowing in greeting. "_Paarthurnax._ I seek a shout, one inscribed on Alduin's wall. I seek Dragonrend."

"Dragonrend, you say. Alduin's Bane. _Krosis_, apology. This is one shout I am unable to pass on to you. It is the one shout that we _dovah_ are unable to comprehend. Indeed, it is this incomprehension that is the source of the shout's power. It forces _dovah _to comprehend... mortality. As eternal, immortal beings, this concept is anathema to our existence, and the knowledge rips at our _sil,_ soul. It cripples us, forcing us from the sky. It was this shout that allowed the Tongues to banish Alduin."

Duilius raised his head. "Banished, you say? Alduin wasn't slayed?"

"No, he wasn't. The battle ended with the Tongues too weak to strike the finishing blow. Instead, they used the power of a _kel_, an Elder Scroll, to cast Alduin on the tides of time. Though it appears he was merely sent forward, to now."

"So, how am I supposed to learn this Shout?"

"An Elder Scroll may be able to aid you in this, though where you can find one, I do not know. Perhaps Arngeir may have an idea."

"I see. Thank you, _Paarthurnax._"

As Duilius prepared to leave, Paarthurnax called out to him. "I believe your companion asked something of me. Allow me to aid her, before you leave." Duilius stood aside to make way for the approaching Dragon Priest, and watched as Paarthurnax transferred _something_ to the Dragon Priest.

"It is done. _Dovahkiin._ I have passed my knowledge of the common tongue to your companion, Krosis. Perhaps now you can have someone to talk to during your travels, if she chooses to follow you."

"I doubt that would be for the best, _Paarthurnax._ I thank you, for this." With that, the Dragon Priest turned and floated down the steps, past a rather surprised Duilius. _The Dragon Priest is a SHE?_

== Scene Break ==

"So, you are _dovahkiin_? Interesting. I always thought the Nord hero of legends would be, well, a Nord. Where do you hail from?" Halfway down the mountain, Krosis decided it would be a good idea to practice her newly-learned language, and at the same time, get some information.

"From Cyrodiil, south of Skyrim, and the heart of the Empire."

"An empire, based in the jungles of the White-Gold tower?"

"Yes. Though there really isn't much jungle left. Oh right, you were interred. When was that?"

"Sometime in the midst of the Dragon Wars. My own followers, disillusioned by the rule of the dragons, joined the rebellion. Perhaps due to the fact that I was leading them, we were put down most brutally, compared to the rest of the rebels. I was eventually defeated at Shearpoint Peak, bound and entombed at that very spot. I shall not bore you with the details of my capture. So, what had been happening when I was asleep?"

The dovahkiin took paused for a moment. "Well, I think firstly, you would like to know that the Dragon Cult was eventually defeated, sometime in the First Era. Skyrim was then occupied by Ysgramor, and the first Imperial Empire began in Cyrodiil when the human slaves of the Ayleids rebelled. Queen Alessia founded the Empire.

"Sometime after, the Akaviri from Akavir, a land beyond the east seas, took over the Empire. Eventually, they were driven out, and Cyrodiil, with no ruler, came under contention from three alliances in the Three Banner War. That ended somehow. Then a minor king of Cyrodiil and his general took over the empty throne, eventually uniting Cyrodiil. The king died and the general, Talos, took over to form the Septim Empire. He managed to conquer the whole continent, which we now call Tamriel. Said empire broke apart after his line died out, and now we are pretty much left with Cyrodiil, Skyrim, and High Rock. Though given the situation in Skyrim, even that is up in the air for now."

Hearing that, Krosis looked up, and sighed. "I see. It seems I have awakened in troubled times. What do you mean by the situation in Skyrim?"

"Rebellion. Some of the Nords are upset that they can't worship Talos, or as he was known during his rule, Tiber Septim. So they seek independence from the Empire. And before you ask, the Altmers are involved because they nearly defeated the Empire in the Great War. It was not fun. To preserve what we had left, we signed a treaty, the White-Gold Concordat. Among the terms was the outlawing of the worship of Talos. Something to do with the Altmer beliefs or something."

At that point, they arrived back at the courtyard of High Hrothgar. Stopping near the doors leading into the building, her companion turned to her. "I'll need to ask Arngeir something, before I continue on. Are you really not coming along?"

She stared at him. "Considering the fact that I am now a floating, desiccated corpse, I would say travelling might prove quite troublesome. Though I might have a way to...correct that. If you can give me some time to think it through, out here. I will give you an answer when you are done with the Greybeards, _Dovahkiin_."

"Very well." The dovahkiin opened the doors, and took a step in. "By the way, my name is Duilius Barbatius. I'm really not used to all this title stuff, so Duilius would do."

Krosis tilted her head in amusement. "A bit more informal than I am used, but very well. In that case, feel free to call me Krosis."

"Alright, then. See you later?"

"Yes." And with that, she floated back to the cliff edge, deep in thought.

**A/N: And I'm BACK! (cheers!) Yep, exams were utterly crappy, totally random, and definitely crappy. But that doesn't matter. Still, apologies for the MASSIVE delay. Same thing, review! Remember, more reviews = possibly better writing. It's really for your benefit too! You won't want to read 20 chapters of utter crap, right? And I have a beta! I think? Wonder if that helps. The outline for Chapter 3 is definitely there, and I have the time too, but we'll see when it actually pops out, eh?**

**And really, do I HAVE to put the bloody disclaimer on EVERY. BLOODY. CHAPTER?**


	3. Take a Bow

**Disclaimer: **

***Looks around.* Nope. Still do not own TES V, TES the series, or Bethesda. *Goes off to a corner and sulk.***

"So, are you coming along?"

Krosis turned to face the Dragonborn. "Yes. I shall accompany you. Are we leaving now?"

"Yes..." Duilius sounded dubious. _Does this mean she has a plan to restore her body?_ " Let's go. I hope to reach Ivarstead by nightfall."

== Scene Break ==

"So... I met this other Dragon Priest a few weeks back. Orichalcum mask, wields fire magic. Sounds familiar?"

Krosis, who was floating silently beside Duilius as usual, turned to regard him. "Where?"

"Forelhost, I think it was called. Really big temple-mausoleum place, filled with dead people. Then again, all your ancient Nord ruins are overflowing with dead people. Though not as dead as I like them."

Krosis laughed, a sound not unlike two rocks grinding against one another. "Rahgot. That simple minded fool. I never did see how he managed to become a High Priest. His brain was just this side of empty. Yes... I knew him. We, that is, the other High Priests, used to joke about him. He really had a one-track mind, and lack forward planning too. Then again, his name was 'Anger', and he truly embodied that trait. Always angry, all the time."

Duilius stared at her, amazed at how casual she was when it came to badmouthing her fellow Dragon Priest. "Really?"

"Truly. That also made him an absolutely terrible administrator. But on the battlefield, he leads perhaps one of the most... devastating armies. His followers, they were handpicked by him. So full of rage, the whole bunch of them. It also contributes to a fair amount of rather damaging infighting. It was amazing how Forelhost lasted as long as it did... Does it even still stand?"

Duilius looked up, reminiscing. "Oh, it still stands. Quite well preserved, in fact, for a Mythic Era ruin. You mentioned High Priests? Were you guys ranked?"

"Yes. There was the regular mass of priests and thirteen High Priests above them, eight in Skyrim and five on the island of Solstheim. I was one of those on the mainland. We led the worship of the _dovah_, and also served as local rulers for different parts of Skyrim, managing the day-to-day administration for our dragon overlords. They were more often than not embroiled in internal conflicts, and had little attention to spare for us mortals.

"Also, at times of war such as the great elven incursions, there would be a ... general, appointed from the High Priests. He would be granted overall command of all our troops, and the rest of the priesthood would serve as the rest of the command structure. For the entire period of the conflict, this individual shed his name, taking on the title of Konahrik. Warlord."

"I see." Duilius looked up, thinking. "Say, there weren't any settlements at Shearpoint, were there? Where was your realm, then?"

Krosis looked around, getting her bearings. "Roughly west of here, at Bleak Falls Citadel."

"Bleak Falls Barrow? I was there, shortly after I arrived in Skyrim. Had to run a... 'simple retrieval mission' for the local court mage. Simple, he said. Bullshit." The Dragonborn frowned at that particular memory. "I ended up fighting a fucking Overlord, and that was with me not knowing **anything **about the draugar. Almost broke my back when he Shouted me into a Word Wall. Though, it does explain why there were no Dragon Priests, considering its size."

"An Overlord, you say. Did he carry a frost enchanted greatsword?" Krosis tilted her head, curious.

"Yep. Still have that thing in my house. The quality of the enchantment was damned good, better than anything else I had seen. Even the Altmer ones during the Great War... but that's a tale for another time." Duilius suddenly halted, and turned to gape at her. "That was **YOUR **work?"

"Yes, indeed. Thank you for the compliment, by the way."

"I'll be damned... Bloody thing nearly took out my arm! Had to slowly thaw myself out to prevent the limb from shattering outright. And it was **rusty!**"

"Good to know the enchantment still works, even after all these years. Speaking of which, I wish to visit Bleak Falls... Barrow, you say?"

"Yes." Duilius looked at her.

"There is something I wish to retrieve from there."

"Oh **great**! Another bloody retrieval... fine, fine. We are going to Whiterun city anyway, may as well swing by on the way." Duilius sighed. _I HATE retrievals... always screw up._

"... I see. What did you find out from the Greybeards?" The pair continued on, Krosis casually impaling a wolf with an ice spike that sent it tumbling right off the mountain path.

"They suggested going to the College of Winterhold. Perhaps the library there might hold some clues as to the location of an Elder Scroll. Oh, by the way, the College is an institution of magic, located along the northern shore."

"A school... for magic?" Krosis' rasping voice sounded almost hopeful. "They have facilities for rituals, I assume?"

"I suppose so. Is it for your... condition?"

"Yes. I might have a way to restore my body. But I will need a human sacrifice."

"By the Divines!" Duilius recoiled, shocked. "Is it not under the school of Restoration? Why in Oblivion do you even need a human sacrifice?"

"It's a modified version of a vampiric healing ritual, which uses the life force of an animal sacrifice. I just scaled it up."

Duilius sighed. "I suppose we can pick up a bandit on the way. Alive, I presume?"

"Yes, alive."

"Is there no other way?"

"Not that I know of."

"Just... don't let the College know... oh gods. You are actually going to perform a human sacrifice at the College! I don't even know how you are going to pull that off. You know what," He walked on ahead. "- don't tell me. I really don't want to know."

== Scene Break ==

They made it much further than expected, spending the night at the newly rebuilt town of Helgen. After being razed to the ground by the World Eater it was temporarily occupied by looters, before the Empire swept in to reclaim it.

By late morning the next day the pair found themselves approaching the great stone steps of Bleak Falls Barrow. At the foot of the steps Duilius suddenly ducked for cover behind a toppled pillar, gesturing frantically for Krosis to join him.

"What is the matter, Dragonborn?" She asked, confused.

"Shhhh... I hear something. Probably bandits... again. I thought I cleared them out the first time..." Duilius whispered. His guess proved to be accurate. When he peeked over their cover, he saw an archer, clad in furs, standing at the top of the staircase. "Damn it. No idea how many are up there either... Follow me." Duilius started to sneak off, halting when a dried hand landed on his shoulder.

"Allow me. May I assume these bandits fear the undead?"

He stared at her. "Who doesn't?", he deadpanned.

Krosis removed her cloak, tossing the bundle of cloth to him. "Take this." With that, she floated up and over the ruined masonry.

The bandit, now midway down the stairs, spotted her almost instantly. "Oi, you! Who in Oblivion are you?", she yelled, notching an arrow onto her bowstring. Then, she did a double-take. "Y-you... It's one of those undead things! GUYS!" The panicked bandit turned and started running back up the stairs. "WE HAVE DR -" She fell forward, an ice spike buried deep in her back.

"How rude.", muttered Krosis as she floated over the rapidly cooling corpse, making her way up the staircase to meet the rest of the bandits who were alerted by their freshly deceased comrade.

"DIE, FOUL DAEDRA!" The bandits charged down the stairs.

"Death threats, already? And you couldn't even identify me correctly." She sniffed haughtily. "Very well." With that, she casted a Frost Cloak on herself and floated forward leisurely to meet her opponents.

At the bottom of the steps, Duilius looked on, Imperial steel sword drawn but hanging loosely in his right hand. _This is going to be quite the slaughter, isn't it..._

The first bandit, a lean male Imperial wielding twin swords, was swiftly taken care of with a spike through the head.

Then, a fireball splashed harmlessly against her ward, causing Krosis to look up at the perpetrator. The Breton mage, hanging back behind the melee fighters, startled at the sudden attention. He took a step back, stepped on a Frost rune, and promptly turned into a Breton icicle.

The last bandit, a heavy-set female Nord in full steel plate, managed to reach melee range. Bellowing, she rushed forward and swung her greatsword, intending to remove the Dragon Priest's head. Suddenly, she felt her swing slow down to a near halt, and saw ice rapidly consume her forearms. Krosis ducked, and the bandit's swing resumed its course over her head.

The bandit's sword slammed into a pillar, the weapon and her arms shattering. She fell to her knees, screaming incoherently in pain. The Dragon Priest glanced at her dismissively, dragged her to the side of the stairway overlooking a drop, and tossed her off.

== Scene Break ==

Krosis levitated up onto the stone wall framing the enormous doors that led into the necropolis. She stepped down lightly and got on her knees, digging through the thick snow looking for something.

Duilius, surveying the carnage on the steps, glanced up at the Dragon Priest as she descended cradling shards of metal in her robes. "You forgot the sacrifice!", he yelled.

"... I thought I forgot something..." She muttered, floating right past him. He stood up to follow, hastily stuffing a lump of frozen troll fat into his pocket. _Good for potions._

"I... was joking."

== Scene Break ==

The two travellers arrived at Whiterun, a large sprawling city located in the middle of green, fertile plains. Upon sighting the Dragonborn, the guards at the gate saluted and waved them past. Krosis, as usual, was hidden beneath her cloak and did not draw any attention from them. "A person of some importance, aren't you?"

"I was made Thane, that is, a minor noble, after slaying a dragon that was attacking the western watchtower. Not quite sure how that deed managed to net me such a position, though."

They stopped in front of a small two-storey house with pale wooden walls and a shingled roof, not unlike many of the other houses of Whiterun. Duilius opened the door to let themselves in. "Breezehome. Not much, but it is something."

_I would have expected a noble to have a slightly more impressive residence..._ Krosis looked around, floating to the bookcase to examine the contents closer.

"Lydia! I'm back!" The Dragonborn called out, cleaning out his pocket and tossing the stinking gunk into the fire. _Urg... __**melted**__ troll fats. Not a good thing to have in your pocket. Should have used a container._

A shieldmaiden wearing a steel cuirass, with her dark brown hair braided neatly, walked down the stairs to greet them. Upon seeing Krosis, she frowned. "My Thane, welcome back. Who... is that?"

Duilius looked around, to see the Dragon Priest studying the enchanting table and generally ignoring the other two occupants of the room. "This is Krosis. She is a... recent acquaintance."

"Krosis, is it? What an odd name. I could have sworn I heard the draugar say that word before." Lydia tilted her head, puzzled.

Said draugr turned to face the housecarl, leaning on the enchanting table. "Well, it does mean 'sorrow', after all. I believe the draugar are probably quite a sorry bunch, which may explain why they say it so often." She threw back her hood, and Lydia gasped, drawing her sword. "You are a-"

"Yes. I am a Dragon Priest. Well met." If she could, Krosis would have smirked.

== Scene Break ==

"So, let me get this straight." Lydia frowned. "You found this **friendly** Dragon Priest, brought it to the Greybeards to learn the Common Tongue, and now you two are setting off to the College of Winterhold not only to find an Elder Scroll, but also to restore its body? I see..." She looked at her Thane calmly, and then exploded. "ARE YOU INSANE? How in Oblivion are you going to drag a Draugr Dragon Priest halfway across Skyrim to the College, without attracting any attention at that? How can you even be sure it is not hostile in the first place?"

Krosis sat there watching the tirade, amused. "_ahem_. Please, there is absolutely no need to mind me. It is not as if I am the one being discussed here."

Lydia ducked her head, blushing. "...sorry."

"It is alright." Turning to Duilius, "So, when are we leaving?"

"In a few days. I still need to resupply. Lydia, how are your wounds from Kynesgrove fairing?"

Hearing that, Lydia perked up. "All healed, my Thane-"

"I already said before. Call me Duilius."

"As you wish. I am ready, do you want me to accompany you this time?"

"Yes. I have a feeling the Elder Scroll will be a real pain in the arse to retrieve, and Krosis will probably be tied up with that ritual of hers."

"What ritual?"

"The ritual to restore my body, of course. By the way, is the Skyforge located in this city?"

"Yes, it is just up in the Wind District, beside the longhouse of the Companions... Why do you ask?", answered Lydia, bewildered by the non-sequitur.

"There is something I need repaired."

At that moment, Duilius yawned. "Damn, I'm exhausted. Going to bed now, goodnight." He stood up, and made for the stairs.

Lydia glanced at the retreating figure, and then back at the silent Draugr beside her. "Where are you going to-"

"It is alright, I do not need sleep. You may go ahead."

"If you say so..." Lydia walked off awkwardly, glancing back a few times at her guest.

== Scene Break ==

Duilius woke up when sunlight burned directly through his eyelids. _Damned sun... _Pushing himself up, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, stretched to ease his muscles, and opened his eyes to see a Dragon Priest sitting by the small table at the corner of his room. An open book was resting on its lap, and it was calmly staring at him. Duilius reacted like any sane man would. That is, he screamed.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

It was a manly scream, befitting his age and stature. A **very manly** scream.

A flustered houscarl, dressed haphazardly in a loose shirt and holding a steel sword in her hand, burst into the room. "What is it? Are you hurt?" Then, she registered the man in bed, right in front of her. A very naked man.

Blushing, she squeaked and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Yelling through it, "Sorry, my Thane! I didn't mean to intrude!" Then, she stuck her head back into the room and frowned, resolutely not looking in the general direction of the bed. "What is the matter, m-Duilius?"

Still shocked, Duilius pointed at the Dragon Priest, a gesture that was ultimately useless as his housecarl was not even looking at him **or** his finger. Then, his mind clicked. _Oh... right. Krosis._

At that moment, Krosis spoke. "I need to go to the Skyforge, _Dovahkiin,_ and would appreciate your assistance in... interacting with the blacksmith."

Duilius cocked his head. "Don't you already know how to speak Common?"

The Dragon Priest continued staring at the man on the bed. "Is the smith scared of the undead?" She deadpanned.

"Right..."

"And please cover up. I **am** a woman, you know, despite my current appearance."

== Scene Break ==

After a hasty breakfast of bread and cheese for the living, Duilius and Krosis left for Jorrvaskr, Lydia being tasked with procuring supplies as the Dragonborn wished to depart as soon as possible for Winterhold.

Arriving before the longhouse, the pair walked around to the workshop at the back instead of entering. As they reached the top of the stairs, the blacksmith, Eorlund Gray-Mane, called out. "Greetings, Dragonborn! What brings you here to my forge this morning?"

"My... acquaintance here wishes to have something repaired.", said Duilius, as Krosis approached the anvil, carefully assembling the metal shards to form a shattered bow.

"By the Nine..." Eorlund sucked in a breath. "I haven't seen this material since that time Farkas showed me that dagger he found in that ancient Nord tomb. Who in Oblivion is your friend here?"

Duilius looked guiltily at the older man. "She is..."

The Dragon Priest sighed, and checking to see that they are alone pulled down her hood. "I am Krosis. Well met, blacksmith of Ysgramor's Companions."

The blacksmith's grip on his hammer tightened. "A Dragon Priest. Duilius Barbatius, are you mad? What possibly possessed you to bring a Draugr, a Dragon Priest no less, into Whiterun?"

"She is friendly, so stop acting like she will annihilate the city, okay?" The Dragonborn exclaimed, exasperated.

"Not to say that I can't, but I really can't find a reason to." Krosis mused.

"Not helping..." Duilius grounded out, glaring at his companion.

== Scene Break ==

"So, you want me to reforge this bow?" Eorlund said, examining each piece with an expert eye. "Not to say that it is impossible, of course, but it will be difficult. Whoever destroyed this weapon did a damned good job of it. I have to say, based on the material, the draw strength is absurd. Did you really use this weapon?" He looked at the Dragon Priest from head to toe, amused.

"Are you questioning my ability to use my own weapon?" Krosis asked.

"Oh, no, of course not. Just curious. Are these... runes? Never seen these before. Dragon script, I presume? Filled in with something... The filling will be burnt off during forging, I hope you have a replacement?" Krosis nodded.

"Alright then. If you people are rushing to Winterhold, I guess I better get it done as soon as possible. Tell you what, come back in two days time. I'll have it ready by then."

"Thank you for your help, blacksmith of the Skyforge." Krosis bowed.

"No problem. Glad to help. It's an honour to be able to work on such a piece. Though... if it is no trouble, can I have a look at it after you are done with the inscriptions?"

"Of course. We will see you in two days." She turned to leave.

"You can leave your armour here too, if you want. I don't mind repairing it. It is just iron, right?"

"Very well." Krosis proceeded to take off her armour, and then left.

== Scene Break==

"Is she always like this, Duilius? All cold and, dare I say, snobbish?", asked the blacksmith after Krosis had left.

"Well, she **is** a Dragon Priest. A rather high ranking one too. I guess she had earned the right."

"So, how does she look like under the mask?"

Duilius stared at the blacksmith. "Dead.", he deadpanned.

Eorlund made a face. "I see... Still, I think you should find a nice girl, and settle down after this Alduin business. Ysolda, perhaps? She does have that girl-next-door charm to her."

"Gods damn it Grey-Mane, you old lecher..."

== Scene Break ==

As she floated along the streets of Whiterun, Krosis pondered about something she had neglected for quite a while. _Raghut was alive? What in Oblivion is happening? The Dovahkiin said they were all dead. Is it linked to Alduin? Who else are back? Could __**he**__ be back too?_

Then, her train of thoughts was broken as a dark-skinned woman bumped into her, falling on her rear end. _So, this is a Redguard_, Krosis absently thought. "Excuse me, I'm sorry." Then the woman walked off, muttering under her breath. "Useless philandering sycophant! Just you wait, I'll call the Dark Brotherhood on you. I have enough of this..."

_The Dark Brotherhood? Sounds like an assassin's guild._ Krosis turned and called out to the woman. "Say, stranger. Perhaps **I **can be of service?"

== Scene Break ==

Duilius was concerned. No, worried. Scratch that. Frantic. It was way past nightfall, and Krosis had yet to return to Breezehome. He last saw her in the morning, leaving the Skyforge. _Where in Oblivion could she be?_ After all, it would not do for a Draugr to be caught wandering the streets of the city. Or any city. The guards tend to have a 'Kill on Sight' policy when it came to the undead. And even if he won't admit it outright, he was growing fond of the Dragon Priest's companionship. Her magical prowess didn't hurt, either. Suddenly, the door opened.

"Where in Oblivion have you been... oh by the Eight, who is this? What have you done?!"

Krosis entered, dragging a body along. "Duilius, meet Nazeem. Idiotic, miserly, philandering sycophant. He 'volunteered' for my ritual. That is, his wife 'volunteered' him."

"He is still alive, then?"

"Yes."

"Akatosh deliver me from magic-wielding undead Nord kidnappers..."

**A/N: A wee bit shorter this time, but it really didn't made sense to carry on. I was kinda dragging it near the end. Was it awkward? Do review and tell me about it, as well as anything I should improve on. Fun fact: This was written 10668m up in the air, and at the time of this line, above Turkmenistan. Yep. Year 1 is officially OVER! Expect more frequent updates, subject to social obligations. Toodles! **

**Oh yes. There's a W40K/4Chan, and a slight Avenger reference in there. Go figure! Virtual cookies!**


	4. In the Flesh

**Disclaimer: **

**_*Looks up from financial report.*_**** Nah, still don't own Skyrim, the company that actually owns it, the company that owns said company, and so on...**

The next day saw Duilius running around Whiterun, on errands of one sort or another. Krosis spent almost all of her time in front of the enchanting table in Breezehome, fiddling with various odds and ends she found around the house. Lydia was occupied with getting supplies, though she could be found staring at the Dragon Priest in confusion whenever her path happened to pass by the enchanting table.

"Soul gems are normal, frost salt and sapphires are... understandable, but why in Oblivion do you have **snow** on an enchanting table? How are you even keeping it from melting?" The housecarl asked, peering over the draugr's shoulder.

"It is from the Throat of the World. Snow that never melts, not matter what you do to it. In theory it should allow my frost spells to pass through those rather aggravating flame cloaks." Muttered Krosis absently, as she dumped all the components into a mortar and started pounding the mixture into a fine powder.

Lydia blinked, and then asked hesitantly. "Is this enchanting, or alchemy?"

The Dragon Priest, with her never-changing mask, turned to face her. "It is magic."

== Scene Break ==

"So," said Duilius, "mind telling me how you managed to use up **all **my frost salts? They cost a fortune!"

Two days have passed, and he once again found himself walking beside Krosis as they made their way to the Skyforge. The only difference is that this time, the Dragon Priest was holding a bowl filled with a pale blue powder that was causing its container to frost over. In the middle of summer.

"You do not actually have that much frost salt. Tell me, how many frost atronachs have you slayed?", deadpanned the draugr floating beside him as she turned to look at him.

"Err... one?"

Krosis tilted her head. "I am surprised. They are not easy to kill with an ordinary blade such as yours. How did you kill it?"

"It was... an accident. A friend of mine and I were fighting through a Thalmor task force. We were heavily outnumbered, even with his summoned frost atronach. We were taking heavy spell fire and hiding behind a pile of wooden crates. I decided, unwisely, to use my non-existent magical abilities to help thin the enemy out. I casted a flame rune right in the path of the enemy..."

"And the summoned atronach stepped on it." The Dragon Priest finished for him. Duilius nodded, sighing.

== Scene Break ==

The pair walked up the stairs leading to the Skyforge, and quickly spotted Eorlund. The blacksmith was working on something at his grindstone, and had his back to them.

"Good morning, Gray-Mane.", called out the Dragonborn.

The blacksmith grunted in reply absently, still concentrating on his work, as his visitors came up to him. Just before they reached the forge, he stood up, and turned to face them. In his hands was a longbow, its metal limbs a dark gold colour and decorated with dragon motifs. Runes were engraved onto the weapon. "Came to collect this?"

Duilius raised an eyebrow, and let out a low whistle. "Damn, that bow looks **good**."

Krosis, she was stunned. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she approached the blacksmith, and reached out to touch the bow. "This is... amazing."

"Yep. Luckily there weren't any missing pieces. I still have no idea how to smelt that material, just managed to reforge the weapon. It is, as of now, one of a kind."

"You have my gratitude." The Dragon Priest bowed to the blacksmith.

"Nah, it's alright.", Eorlund muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "Just show me the completed piece when you are done. Are you bringing it back to Breezehome for the enchanting? I remember Duilius here saying he has an enchanting table."

"And he is out of magetallow candles."

Duilius looked away, embarrassed. "Hey, I just got that table, alright? Couldn't find time to drop by Belethor's and get the candles." Then he started walking towards the steps leading down to Jorrvaskr. "We can always use Farengar's."

Krosis started to follow after the departing Dragonborn, then stopped and turned to face Eorlund. "Blacksmith, do you want to see me enchant the bow? Come along, and bring the weapon with you."

== Scene Break ==

"Sure, go ahead. Just don't touch anything on my desk.", said the court mage absently as he stood over the desk, pouring over scrolls. "I **said** don't touch **ANYTHING!**" He repeated sharply, making Eorlund freeze with his right hand hovering over a dark purple gem. Farengar gave the object a brief glance and turned to the blacksmith, smirking. "It's a black soul gem. Filled." Said blacksmith hastily withdrew his hand, a disturbed look on his face.

Farengar then turned to look at the arcane enchanter, where Krosis was carefully filling the engraved runes on her bow with the powdered mixture, and fusing the powder onto the metal with controlled bursts of Shock magic. "Interesting. What's the powder for?"

"It's a spell enhancer. After all, this is not your normal enchanting." Krosis didn't look up at him, choosing to continue with her work.

"I can see that. What are you planning to enchant it with? Frost damage?"

"Not exactly. You will see." After she was done filling up the runes, she took a phial of resist magic potion, soaked the bowstring in it, and strung up the bow. Finally, she placed the bow on the enchanter, and activated the magic circle on the table. The surface of the table lit up with a pale blue light, which flowed as streams into the runes. When the light died down, the bow remained largely unchanged, except for the now glowing runes.

Duilius stared at it from the bookcase he was leaning on, and asked the question everyone else in the room was thinking. "Now what?"

"Now, we test it out. Is there an archery range here?" Krosis replied, finally turning to face the court mage.

== Scene Break ==

Krosis stood at the training yard of the keep, facing a row of targets. Behind her stood Duilius, Eorlund, Farengar, and a bunch of guards who happened to be off-duty.

Taking a deep breath - even if she didn't need to breathe anymore, old habits die hard - the Dragon Priest raised the bow in her left hand. The icy cold orb of a Frost spell was floating in her right hand. Behind her, the court mage remarked curiously, "An Ice Spike? I wonder..."

_Keep calm. It will be highly embarrassing for me to miss the shot._ She held onto the bowstring and pulled back, the ice sphere in her right hand lengthening and forming a rough arrow shape, cold winds spiralling along its length. Krosis slowly breathed out, adjusted her aim slightly, and released the magical construct. _Come on now..._

The projectile flew true. While in midflight, it warped back into an ice spike and struck the bullseye. One of the guards gasped. The projectile had torn right through the thick bundle of hay, burying itself almost completely into the target.

"That looks painful." Farengar remarked dryly, walking around the row of targets. "Went right through too. I would hate to take **that** arrow to the knee." All the other spectators winced. "I wonder how it performs against armour..." As he said that, the court mage grabbed a cuirass and placed it in front of a target. Stepping aside, he pointed to it. "Give it a go."

Another arrow shot through the air and the spike reforming in mid-air connected with the breastplate dead centre, piercing it. When a guard went forward to remove the armour, he found that it was stuck fast to the target behind, and struggled to pull it free. "No lollygaggin'!", one of his colleagues yelled, making the others to chuckle. Finally, with no small amount of effort, the cuirass was removed. The ice spike had punched right through, and impaled the armour onto the hay behind. Seeing that, Eorlund whistled appreciatively. "That is one heck of a weapon you have there, lass. Where did you get it?"

"My master, who taught me magic, gave me the bow as a gift to commemorate..." Krosis glances at Farengar and the guards, "... the end of my lessons. I used it as a medium to experiment on enchanting. This was the result."

"How did you come up with this method of enchanting weapons? Those runes are from the dragon language of old, what do they do?" the court mage asked, intrigued.

"I did not exactly come up with it. I stole the uncompleted notes from a... colleague, and improvised. The runes help me weave the spell into a projectile that is easier to fire, and improve accuracy, range, and power. But in return, it causes a significant increase in magicka cost. While bearable for the lower level spells, it rapidly becomes onerous. If I wanted to pull off master-level spells, I would barely get a single shot off before tiring myself out. Also, it is only compatible with frost spells. The other two elements lack the necessary... mass."

Looking at the slightly hungry looks the guards was giving the weapon, she added offhandedly. "It takes a certain level of skill to weave magic like that. Don't even think about it." They looked dejected, their dreams of raining magical fire on their foes shot down ruthlessly by the dragon priest.

== Scene Break ==

Duilius and Krosis bid farewell to the blacksmith in front of Jorrvaskr. "Thank you for repairing the bow." The dragon priest told the blacksmith.

"No problem. I'm glad to help. I suppose you are leaving now for the College?"

"Yes. We'll be taking a carriage up north to Winterhold.", answered the Dragonborn. "See you again soon." With that, the two walked back to Breezehome, where Lydia was waiting for them.

== Scene Break ==

As the three travellers walked out through the city gates, the housecarl turned to face her Thane. "So, we are not walking to the College this time?" She smirked.

"...no?", replied Duilius, confused.

"Good."

"Why do you ask?"

"Remember Riften?"

The Dragonborn paled. "By the Divines, don't **ever **remind me."

"What happened then?", asked Krosis, looking at the pair in confusion.

"He saw the city across the lake, and couldn't find the path going around it. So, being the old veteran he was, he decided to brave the waters, and go for a swim." Lydia looked smug. "I took one look at him, and decided to try harder at finding a path."

Looking at the man, Krosis wondered if he could be even paler than he already was.

"I found him in the local inn when I arrived, lying in bed and nursing his wounds. No one told him about slaughterfish. He was bitten everywhere. And I mean **everywhere**."

The Dragon Priest stared at the Dragonborn, who refused to meet her gaze. "Bloody water-daedra...", he muttered under his breath. "Lydia, stop telling embarrassing stories. We have a guest."

"Very well," Lydia sighed theatrically, "I'm sworn to carry your burdens."

Duilius could only facepalm.

==Scene Break ==

It was nightfall by the time they reached the city of Winterhold. Though to call it a city would be generous. Due to a mysterious catastrophe several decades ago known only as 'The Great Collapse, much of the city had sunk into the Sea of Ghosts, leaving behind but a mere shell of the former major city.

As they walked towards the inn, a few residents still out and about whispered and pointed fingers at them. In particular Krosis, who was still floating along, attracted most of the attention, and it was wearing on her patience. To calm herself, she withdrew from her robes a familiar purple gem, and started juggling it with one hand.

It caught Lydia's attention. "Where did you get that soul gem? It looks funny..." Duilius, intrigued by the conversation between his two female companions, took a closer look and choked.

"I-isn't that the b-black soul gem from Farengar's desk?"

"Yes."

Both Thane and housecarl gaped at the Dragon Priest. "H-how?"

"I picked it up on the way to the training yard."

The two living beings stood rooted to the ground, staring at the slowly departing draugr in amazement and horror as she continued gliding towards the inn.

== Scene Break ==

Back at Dragonsreach, the resident court mage was pacing in a pile of odds and ends, tearing at his hair in frustration. "WHERE IN OBLIVION IS THAT DAMNED THING?!"

Outside the office area, a certain Dunmer housecarl looked on at the chaos in amusement, and took a sip of her mead.

Then, she looked closer at her right middle finger, which was missing a certain ring, and frowned. "By Azura... fuck me."

== Scene Break ==

In the morning, the three travellers left the inn and made for the College of Winterhold. As they approached the bridge linking the College to the mainland, they encountered an Altmer mage who was standing guard at the top of the ramp leading to the bridge. "Halt. What is your business with the College?", she called out.

Duilius stepped forward. "Greetings, mage. We seek information from your library, to aid our quest."

"What is it that you want to know about?"

"We seek the location of the Elder Scrolls."

At that, the mage frowned. "The Elder Scrolls? They have been lost for ages. Even we have little information on them. Nonetheless, outsiders are not allowed to enter the College without prior permission from the Arch-mage."

Right then, a roar tore through the air. "DRAGON!", a townsman shouted frantically.

"Oh, you must be kidding me.", groused the Dragonborn. "Lydia, protect the mage." Krosis turned silently to look up at the newcomer.

The dragon was a dark emerald, with a narrow frill rising from the back of its head and a sail on its back. It swooped across the town bathing the main street in flames, before rising back into the sky. The couple of townsfolk caught in the Fire Breath Shout screamed in pain as they burned.

"A Blood Dragon. Alduin is back, as you were saying?" The Dragon Priest turned to look at Duilius, but he was already rushing forward through the smouldering street, his Imperial bow in his hands, scanning the skies for their foe. Spotting the dragon approaching once more, Duilius took a deep breath. _"FUS RO DAH!"_ The Shout rippled through the air, but failed to reach the dragon.

Krosis cleared her throat, and shouted. _"You pick a fight with a helpless town, yet dare not approach. I call you coward."_

The dragon tilted its head to look at the Dragon Priest, and landed in the middle of the streets. "_A Dragon Priest? How did you survive..."_ Then, its eyes widened briefly before narrowing, and it snarled. _"Faal Tahrodiis. You betrayed us, and our lord Alduin. I will have your head."_ With that, the dragon roared, flames spewing forward.

Krosis, who was standing far out of range, calmly raised her bow, pulled back the bowstring, and fired off an arrow into the gaping maul of the dragon. The flames cut off abruptly, the dragon choking on the ice spike that was driven into the back of its throat. _"You talk too much."_

The dragon gulped, and leapt at her, intent on biting the Dragon Priest's head off. However, it smashed its nose into Duilius' shield. The Dragonborn bashed the dragon once more, before tossing the shield aside and leaping onto its head. Raising his sword high in a reverse grip, he drove it deep into the base of the dragon's skull through the frill. The dragon roared weakly in pain, before collapsing.

As the Imperial jumped off and slowly walked towards the College, the corpse ignited and the flames flowed around him. When the fire died down, all that was left of the dragon was his skeleton.

The College mage stood frozen, wide-eyed in shock. "It's t-true... you a-are the D-dragonborn."

== Scene Break ==

After that spectacle, the mage, Faralda, hurriedly led the group to the College. "So, the Elder Scroll you are looking for, it's supposed to help you defeat Alduin?"

"Yes.", answered Duilius.

"In that case, I can't in good conscience deny you entry. You are trying to save the world, after all. But still, do take care not to damage any books. The librarian, Urag gro-Shub, is rather... particular about the conditions of his books." She then glances at the Dragon Priest floating at the back. "Your companion fired a spell from her bow. How did she do that?"

"Magic.", came the reply, floating to the front.

Duilius looked at Krosis oddly, while Lydia facepalmed.

== Scene Break ==

The group stopped at the doors of the Arcanaeum, the library of the College. Duilius and Lydia bid farewell to their guide, and entered. Krosis, however, hovered before the mage. "Do you have any place for me to conduct a ritual? Somewhere out of the way, preferably."

The Altmer looked at her mysterious guest, puzzled. "Why?"

"Can you keep a secret?"

== Scene Break ==

As Faralda led Krosis to the Midden, her mind was whirling. _A Dragon Priest? What is one doing in this day and age? And since when are Draugar capable of thought?_

They arrived at a trapdoor under the stairs of the Hall of Countenance, the sleeping quarters of the more advanced College mages. "Down this door is the Midden, and in there is the Atronach Forge. It's... the best I can think of. You might have some problems though, considering its nature."

"I will determine that for myself." And the Dragon Priest descended through the trapdoor, hauling a large sack along.

The Altmer looked at the closed trapdoor, puzzled. _What's in that sack anyway? Potatoes?_

== Scene Break ==

After a brisk stroll through the underground tunnels and chambers that made up the Midden, which involved several skewered spiders, Krosis arrived in a large circular chamber. In its middle was a raised stone dais, with two rings of candles surrounding a huge Daedric sigil.

_Well... that rune might be a complication, but I guess I can work with that. Now... who is the patron deity of necromancy again..._ She paused, and shuddered. _Molag Bal? Not good. But, I guess it must be done..._

She dragged the sack to the centre of the circle, and waved a hand over it, dispelling the Illusion spell to reveal a thoroughly tied up and very unconscious Nazeem. _Sack of potatoes indeed. He is about as useful as one._

Setting her bow against the wall of the chamber, she stripped her armour and robes off, and removed her mask. Now fully nude, she untied Nazeem, and pinned him to the floor spread-eagle using ice spikes.

The pain woke him up screaming. Then, the man saw the Dragon Priest leaning over him with a ritual dagger in its hands. He gasped. "D-draugr!"

"I have noticed." With that, she slammed the dagger into his chest to the hilt, right through his heart. Chanting softly, she took the blood spurting out from the wound and painted runes all over her body.

"Flesh unmade and reformed, blood spilt and returned. Wounds opened and closed, pain flared and faded. Life given and restored..."

Suddenly, the candles surrounding her flickered and their flames turned red. Pain unlike anything she had experienced before tore through her. She screamed, the sound echoing through the Middens, and lost consciousness.

A deep laughter rang out through the air, though it was shortly cut off by a snarl.

== Scene Break ==

"So, you came here looking for the Elder Scrolls?" Duilius and Lydia found themselves face to face with an elderly orc. He was balding, had thick facial hair, and was dressed in mage robes. _An orc MAGE?_ Lydia stared, stunned.

"Yes.", the Dragonborn replied, glancing at his flabbergasted housecarl.

Urag gro-Shub raised an eyebrow. "Well, I'm certainly honoured that you think so highly of the College, to the extent of having an Elder Scroll in our collection. Sad to say, you are mistaken. The thing is, no one is really certain of anything about them."

Upon hearing this, Duilius sighed. "Is there anything you have on them?"

"Well, there are a couple of books..." The orc walked to one of the shelves lining the wall and pulled out two books. "Yeah, literally a couple of them. That's all we have on the subject. And even then, they are mostly lies mixed with wild theories and conjectures. Don't put too much stock in them." He handed the two books to the pair, who sat down in the nearby chairs and started browsing for information.

The first book, 'Effects of the Elder Scrolls', merely documented the effects of reading the Scrolls, mainly blindness. The second, however, was strange. Written by a Septimus Signus, it comprised of obscure and poetic prose, and what little analysis of the Scrolls was largely illogical. However, Duilius felt something was off. _Metaphors, perhaps... _Turning to Urag, he asked about the author.

"Ah, Septimus Signus. He's the world's master of the nature of Elder Scrolls, but... not too right in the head."

"Where can I find him?"

At that, the orc looked pensive. "Now that you mentioned, he has been gone for far too long. He went somewhere up north in the ice fields years ago. Said he found some old Dwemer artefact. I haven't heard from him since then."

Lydia walked up behind the Dragonborn. "So, time to freeze our asses off?" She deadpanned. Suddenly, a scream reverberated through the walls, startling the three.

"What in Oblivion was that?", asked the orc.

"Sounds like it came from underground...", Lydia piped up.

"Wait, where's Krosis?", muttered Duilius, looking around.

"Krosis? What does a Dragon Priest have to do with this?" The librarian looked at him, puzzled.

Just then, Faralda burst through the doors, running towards them. "I think your friend is in trouble, Dragonborn."

Duilius turned to face the Altmer. "Where is she?"

"In the Middens. She asked for a ritual area, and I directed her to the Atronach Forge. That scream probably came from there."

"YOU IDIOT!", yelled Urag. "What ritual was she doing?"

"She said it was a Restoration ritual..."

"Enough talk. Where is this Atronach Forge you spoke of?", interrupted the Dragonborn impatiently.

"Under the College. Come, I'll lead you there." The Altmer rushed off towards the doors.

"Lydia, grab the book." The Imperial followed after her.

"Bloody idiots. Rushing in without knowing what happened..." The Orc ran after the pair, leaving behind the Nord housecarl. Said Nord hastily stuffed the book into her pack, and sprinted after the rest.

== Scene Break ==

"That was **a lot** of spiders.", muttered Lydia, flinching as her foot came down with a crunch.

"Well, at least she was thorough.", noted Faralda absently as she rushed through the caverns.

As they entered the room which housed the Forge, the four were greeted by an odd sight. A young Nord girl, approximately 15 years old, was lying on the dais face down. Her long, silvery-blonde hair was splayed out across the floor. Beside her was a pile of bone dust. She was also naked, her pallid skin contrasting with the dark stone of the Forge. To the four newcomers, she looked rather frail.

As Duilius started to approach her, she stirred and then sat up. She rubbed her eyes, and opened them. The right one was a pale blue reminiscent of frost, but the left was a bright cerulean orb of light, like the eyes of a Draugr. The skin surrounding her left eye was dry and leathery.

While the two males hastily turned around to avoid getting an eyeful of the nude girl, the two females, Altmer and Nord, stared in confusion.

"What's the matter?", asked the girl, her light voice groggy. After a few moments exchanging stares, Lydia sighed, and walked up to the dais, pulling her winter cloak around the younger Nord. "You might want a mirror." Turning to the two men, the housecarl chuckled. "It's alright, she's covered up now." They hesitantly turned around to face the dais, cheeks flushed.

The mystery girl tilted her head, confused, and waved her hand to conjure a mirror of ice. She took one look at her reflection, and sighed. "At least I'm not a vampire."

"Why would you be one?", asked Faralda.

"Necromantic restoration ritual, on this?" She looked down pointedly at the pile of bone dust. "I'm literally waving a flag asking for Molag Bal to poke his scaly nose into this. But, at least it's just his nose, I think." The petite blonde, who barely reached Lydia's shoulders, shuddered.

At that, Duilius startled, and stared at her, gaping. "Hold on a moment. You are... Krosis?"

"I wonder what gave it away... the left eye, perhaps?", snarked the newly restored Dragon Priest.

Duilius walked up towards the girl for a closer look, astonished. "You look so small..."

"Still technically older than you.", deadpanned the girl. "Probably need to do a run-down of what else changed. By Akatosh, my left eye itches..."

Just then, the Dragonborn tripped on the edge of the dais and stumbled, falling against the girl. Krosis was pushed down, toppling with a yelp. The pair landed in a rather... compromising position. Duilius was on his knees, looming over the young Nord. Her cloak had become undone during their fall, while one of his hands was resting firmly on her chest.

Krosis looked down at the hand, and then slowly looked up expressionlessly at the Imperial above her. Said Imperial hastily stood up. She slowly made her way to her feet, her face expressionless, and promptly slapped him.

"Pervert.", Krosis stated, and glided out of the chamber.

As he flew off the dais, there was only one thought in Duilius' mind. _Again?_

**A/N Yep, Krosis has a slight kleptomaniac streak. Why? Why not? I mean, she does have a lockpicking bonus on her mask, has to come from somewhere. Though it does mean I kinda need to keep track of just what she had stolen. **

**I decided not to translate large chunks of conversations into dovah. It's quite the pain for me, and from past experience, for the reader too. What do you think?**

**As usual, reviews are welcome. Improvements are fuelled by them, after all.**


	5. In Intellectual Pursuit

**Disclaimer: **

**I sincerely thank Bethesda for allowing us to mess around in their playground. It is fun!**

"So, you are not coming with us to find Septimus?", Duilius asked the young girl standing before him.

"No. There are still some things I need to find out.", she replied, raising her hand to scratch her left eye before stopping. "For one, I need to make sure I will not fall apart halfway through the journey."

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Lydia piped up, concerned.

"I am fully capable of taking care of myself. Thank you for the concern, but it is really alright."

"If you say so. We'll swing by to pick you up after we are done." Duilius turned and started across the bridge to Winterhold proper, Lydia trailing behind him.

"Very well. Have a safe journey."

== Scene Break ==

As she watched the pair fade into the heavy snowfall, Krosis sighed. _Now, time to figure out what exactly happened._ With that in mind, she turned, and floated towards the Arcanaeum.

When she entered the library, Urag looked up. "Greetings. You are the Dragon Priest that the Dragonborn brought here, right?"

"Yes. Greetings to you too, Librarian."

The elderly orc snorted in amusement. "I can hear the damned capital L in that. Just call me Urag. So, how can I help you today?"

"I need books on Restoration, Necromancy, and Daedric Princes, if you have them."

"Well, Restoration is over there, third shelf to the left. Daedric Princes, in the Conjuration section, fourth shelf to the right. As for necromancy... there really is only one book. 'The Black Arts on Trial', by... well, you probably won't know him, considering how much you predate him by. It's... really useless. Just a debate transcript, on the place of Necromancy in the study of magic."

"It may make for interesting casual reading."

"Very well. But I'll need to find it. Not sure where I put it, to be honest."

"You have my thanks."

The librarian waved it off. "Not a problem. Though, I would appreciate if you can answer some of my questions."

"If it is within my means.", Krosis said absently, wandering over to the Restoration section and selecting a few tomes. Placing them on the counter, she levitated herself onto it, settling down into a cross-legged position. "Please, go on."

"Right. So, what is a Dragon Priest, who worships the dragons, doing in the company of a dragon slayer?"

Krosis stared at the Orsimer mage and laughed, a light tinkling that still managed to sound flat somehow. "I have killed my fair share of _dovah_, back during the early days of the Dragon War. Not that they stayed dead, mind you."

Urag gaped. "Wait, you **killed** dragons?"

"Yes. You tend to have to kill people in wars, civil or otherwise."

"You rebelled. Why?"

Krosis turned to the pile of books before her, flipping open the first one. "Personal reasons."

"Very well. How are you finding Skyrim of the Fourth Era?"

"It is... different. It was a bit disconcerting to find how much the rest of the world had changed while you were trapped in a glorified stone box. Also, to find the elves all over your homeland, when you have done so much to fight off their kin in the past... it was rather upsetting."

"Heard of the Thalmor, then." The elderly librarian snorted. "Bunch of racist bastards. But to be fair, not all Altmers are like them. Take Faralda, for example. Yes, she is a bit stuck-up, but once you get to know her, she can be quite a good friend. Speaking of which, I do apologise for her absolutely idiotic suggestion the other day. The Atronach Forge is generally one of the worst places to conduct a ritual. Are you having any problems?"

"Other than my eye? Not that I have noticed." Krosis tilted her head in thought.

"That's good, I guess." The orc took another look at the young girl, frowning. "Are you sure? You look a bit... young..."

"Young? I'm 19..." She stood up, and looked at her reflection off the glass panels of a nearby cabinet. "... I'm tiny."

== Scene Break ==

After a few hours of reading and bouncing ideas off the elderly Orismer, the newly restored Nord let out a long sigh, and fell back to lie on the counter. "Damn. Nothing."

"Well...", the Orc commented from the shelves, where he was rearranging the books, "no one has done it before, I assume. I guess you would have to play it by ear."

"Yes, I guess so." Krosis hopped off the counter, and started returning the books to their respective shelves. "Do you mind if I go off to explore the compound? I have never actually encountered an institution for magical education before."

"You can check out the main hall, I guess. There are lectures held there occasionally. Most of the learning in the College is self-directed though, through research conducted by the students."

"Thank you. I will have a look, then." With that, the girl floated off, her new black robes - courtesy of the College - fluttering in her wake.

== Scene Break ==

J'zargo was walking out of the Hall of the Elements, deep in discussion with his fellow students. "But a full body Cloak spell takes way too much magicka to keep up. If J'zargo can cloak just his fists, J'zargo would be able to last much longer." _And therefore, punch more things. There is much to be punched._

"The control it requires is too great", countered Onmund.

"Onmund, it is possible. Touch spells are widely used by my people, and it is essentially what J'zargo is looking for.", piped up Brelyna, who was following behind the pair. "Though, I'm not sure why I've never seen them used here in Skyrim."

"Well, as I said, the ability to tightly control your magicka is too great-", the Nord replied, slightly annoyed. Then, he bumped into something, stumbling back.

"Hey, watch where you are going!" The irritated young man groused.

The trio looked down to see a small, waifish blonde sprawled on the ground. She sat up, rubbing her head, and glared Onmund. The Nord apprentice startled. "I... I..."

J'zargo sighed, and extended a paw to the younger girl. "J'zargo apologises for that numbskull he calls friend. Greetings. Are you new here?"

"Well, not exactly..." She allowed herself to be pulled up, and started dusting off and straightening her robes.

"Ah... a visitor, here for the Arcanaeum. This one is J'zargo, as you probably would have realised. The one who knocked you down is Onmund," Said Nord rubbed his head sheepishly, muttering an apology, "while this fine lady over here is..."

"Brelyna Maryon, of House Telvanni. And before you ask, yes I have an ancestry steeped in magic, and no, I don't want to talk about it. Yes, I know Winterhold used to be full of my kind, and no, I don't care that they're all gone now. Is that all?", she finished, scowling at the petite girl with her ears twitching. The other two apprentices stared at Dunmer, shocked by her outburst.

The blonde smirked. "Krosis, of no particularly famous family. And just in case you were wondering, yes, I am a Dragon Priest, and no, I am not a desiccated corpse. Mostly. Yes, I know my peers used to rule Skyrim, and no, I do not miss the paperwork. And that is all."

The Dunmer blushed, and sighed. "I guess I was being rude. Sorry. It became annoying after the first five times or so I've been asked. But I have to ask, 'mostly'?"

At the same time, Onmund had his back pressed to the wall, staring at Krosis in fear. "D-draugr..."

"My right eye." The young Nord swept her fringe from her face, revealing the bright orb of light. "No idea why it is still shining, though. I probably messed up something. You are alright. Not as rude as that guy." She jerked her head towards the cowering Nord, and started to float away before stopping after a short distance.

"By the way, where are the Archmage's quarters?"

== Scene Break ==

As Krosis left, the three apprentices looked at one another. "S-she must be joking.", stuttered Onmund. "Draugar are reanimated corpses. She didn't look dead."

"And how do you know?", countered Brelyna. "Have you **ever** seen one before?"

"Well..."

"J'zargo thinks we should leave. Especially if Brelyna doesn't want her simmering potion to explode."

BOOM.

"Oh shit..." The Dunmer approached a nearby wall, and started banging her head against it.

"J'zargo thinks we are too late."

== Scene Break ==

Faralda was pacing the corridor outside the Arcanaeum, muttering under her breath. "Idiot, idiot... Why in Oblivion did I even come up with that inane suggestion? Faralda, you screwed up big time this time. It's a wonder she even walked away from it... or rather, floated." Then, she heard a rustling sound. Looking up, she saw a petite Nord gliding down the corridor, whistling cheerfully. She was twirling a silver circlet, a moonstone set into the metal. _That looks rather familiar_...

Taking a deep breath, the Altmer calmed herself, and approached the levitating girl. "Excuse me. I... I want to apologise, for my blunder the other day. I shouldn't have recommended the Atronach Forge..."

Krosis sighed, and waved off the apology. "It is alright. No harm was done. I was actually expecting to be aged by the ritual, not... de-aged."

"W-what... How old were you?"

The Dragon Priest stared at her. "19. I was of age..."

"I doubt most people would complain about looking younger..." The Altmer deadpanned.

"I doubt most would want to end up looking like a minor either."

"Good point."

With that, the two parted. Faralda going back to her research, and Krosis back into the library.

== Scene Break ==

Savos Aren was **not** having a good day. First, he woke up to find that his supply of flin, a Cyrodiilic whiskey that he was partial towards, had been finished unknowingly the day before. _Now I need to import more, crap._ Then, he managed to accidentally shave off half his beard when an explosion shook the College. Now, he was rummaging through his belongings frantically. _BY AZURA, WHERE IN OBLIVION IS MY CIRCLET! _

== Scene Break ==

Duilius entered the Hall of the Elements, and sneezed. "That was COLD! Stupid Skyrim weather..."

Behind him, his housecarl sneered weakly. "Blame your weak Imperial constitution... ah...CHOO!"

A Dunmer in elaborate robes, sporting half a beard, rushed past the pair. He slipped on the water dripping from their clothes and fell on his ass. Slowly standing up, he glared at the two travellers before continuing on his way.

_Probably got up on the wrong side of his bed, _thought the Dragonborn, as he made his way towards the Arcanaeum. When he entered, he saw a pint-sized Nord sitting cross-legged on the counter in front of the Orc librarian, flipping through a book.

As he approached, he caught what seemed to be the end of the conversation.

"So, is it **that** ring, Krosis?"

"Yes. I probably should return it."

"Are you kidding? Of course you should!"

The smaller of the pair turned to Duilius. "When are we visiting Whiterun again?"

The elderly Orsimer beside her choked and, after coughing violently, gaped at the fun-sized Dragon Priest. "You must be joking... by Malacath..."

== Scene Break ==

"So, how was your trip up north?" Krosis, Duilius and Lydia were seated around a small table in the Arcanaeum, sharing a meal. Or rather, the Dragonborn and his housecarl were watching the petite blonde elegantly devouring enough food for three people.

"Well, we met Septimus. He said there is an Elder Scroll hidden in Blackreach. That is, a Dwemer city under... what was that ruin he mentioned?" Duilius looked at Lydia, silently asking for help.

"Alftand. Other ruins too. Supposedly quite a number of Dwemer ruins on the surface lead to this underground city."

"Ah yes! He also gave us these." The Imperial pulled out a sphere and a cube, both bearing distinctive Dwemer aesthetics. "The sphere is supposedly a key, to allow us to enter Blackreach through the surface ruins, while the cube is for us to safely transcribe the Elder Scroll. How do either one work, I have no idea"

The younger-looking girl finished her meal, leaning back into her seat with a contented sigh. "So, we are going underground again? Wonderful." She stood up and started drifting towards the doors of the Arcanaeum. "When are we leaving? Soon, I assume? Alduin would hardly wait for you to be ready. We better hurry."

"Yes. Let's go."

== Scene Break ==

"You know, I'm still not used to you looking this young.", Lydia muttered, as the party of three trekked across the snow-covered fields of Winterhold. "You look young enough to be his daughter."

The Dragon Priest turned to glance at the shivering Imperial trailing behind. "Are you alright?"

"C-cold..."

"I see." She looked ahead, frowned, and sent a regular Ice Spike up the hill. Moments later, the corpse of a freshly-impaled wolf rolled down. The older-looking Nord raised an eyebrow at that.

"H-how are you two even a-able to do ANYTHING? It's p-positively freezing over h-here!" Duilius grounded out. The light breeze was making his short, greying at the temples, dark hair, tremble.

"Nord." The housecarl shrugged.

"Undead." Krosis tilted her head. "Apparently."

"Huh? You don't look dead, right eye notwithstanding." Lydia stared at the younger-looking Nord, puzzled.

"I had Urag cast Detect Life and Detect Dead, as a test. I showed up in the second one."

Just as they crested the hill, a sprawling complex of towers came into view, hanging off a glacier ledge.

"F-finally." The Dragonborn rushed towards the ruins, eager to get out of the cold.

== Scene Break ==

The party of adventurers entered the ruins via a swaying, ill-maintained wooden bridge, and found themselves in a tunnel running through the glacier. As they went further in, the caverns of ice slowly gave way to bits of broken stone walls. Unlike the ancient Nordic ones however, the designs carved into the walls were different. And then there were the mechanical parts.

"By the Divines... this is way too noisy for my liking." Duilius grumbled. "How am I supposed to hear oncoming enemies?"

"I personally think these ruins are fascinating. Dwemer, you said? A completely different civilisation. I wonder if they came after us, or if we were simply not observant enough. Slightly disturbing to have missed a whole city, though..." Krosis was studying the carvings and mechanisms in the ruin, muttering under her breath.

_At least it's warm in here, with all the steam. _Duilius thought, approaching a vent to warm his hands. Suddenly, a metallic contraption sprung out from the pipe in a burst of steam, unfurling into a spider-like form. Its claws clicked sharply against the stone floor, and it leaped at the Dragonborn, only to be knocked aside by an ice spike. Duilius pulled out his shield and drew his sword, eyeing the automaton warily.

The Dragon Priest glared at the construct_._ "What is with all these frost-resistant creatures?" Annoyed, she threw a weak lightning bolt at the spider. Unexpectedly, it shuddered, and the red glow of the crystal on its back turned pale blue. It then scurried towards the levitating girl, and made a series of clicking noises with its claws.

_Krosis stared down at it, and blinked. "I may have broken it..." Did it sound __**happy**__?_

"Aww, it likes you!" cooed Lydia, crouching down to examine the automaton.

The younger-looking Nord sighed, and floated off further into the ruins, the automaton clicking after her.

== Scene Break ==

The questing party continued on their way with their new possession orbiting an increasingly annoyed Krosis. The corridors leading deeper into the ruins bore signs of a prior expedition, and they eventually encountered a Khajiit. His rambling carried easily through the caverns, putting the adventurers on guard long before they saw him.

They found him standing over the body of another Khajiit, muttering about something. When he realised he had company, he took an axe and rushed towards them. A lightning bolt from the new team mascot quickly sent the crazed bipedal feline flying back into a wall. He remained there, a spot of charred, smoking fur on his chest.

Duilius shook his head. "Skooma addict. I've seen too many good men and women lose themselves to that despicable drug during the War."

Krosis looked at him oddly. "What is that?"

The Dragonborn sighed, staring at the hovering girl. "Skooma? A potion. Highly addictive. Once you get hooked on it, you literally spend your entire life looking for the next dose. It originated from Elysweyr, the home province of the Khajiit."

Just then, Lydia called out to the two. "I found something!" They gathered around the housecarl, who was holding a leather-bound book in her hands. "This journal belongs to the other dead Khajiit's journal. Name was J'zhar, tried to get his brother, who we just killed, off Skooma. Wasn't too successful, apparently." She shrugged.

Duilius pulled out another book. "I found another journal earlier. Some guy called Sulla Trebatius. Ex-Legionnare, came up with the expedition as a quest for personal glory." He frowned. "It doesn't contain too much information though. Does the one in your hands say where we are heading towards?"

His housecarl shook her head, and he sighed. "Guess we better move on... Keep a lookout for more of these journals. There may be more information in them." The party walked on through a short stretch of ice tunnel, and into the ruins proper.

== Scene Break ==

Krosis floated along at the back of the group, reading aloud a third journal that was found on a stone table. "This one belonged to someone called Umana. They were on an expedition, exploring these ruins. There should be... five more people, besides those two Khajiit." She paused for a moment, before continuing. "It was not going well for them. Their members were disappearing. We should also expect more of those... automatons." She sounded annoyed, though her expression remained calm.

"Why?" Duilius asked, puzzled by the non sequitur.

"We are heading towards somewhere called the 'Animonculory'. Supposedly it was where those machines were produced."

"Sounds like a fun place to be." The Dragonborn deadpanned.

The Dragon Priest nodded then frowned, annoyed by their automaton's incessant clicking. "Go on ahead, do... what that is you usually do." The construct trotted off, and returned shortly with a metallic flask. She opened it to find it filled with a type of oil. Raising an eyebrow, she waved it off, and tossed the flask into her pack.

Just then, they entered a huge chamber with a high ceiling, its floor covered with a layer of oil. As the three of them took some time to admire the architecture around them, there was a loud 'clank', and two metal spheres rolled out of ports built into the wall. They unfolded to reveal a pair of humanoid figures made of the same metal, which charged the group. Their left arms had small, bow-like weapons built into them, while blades unsheathed from their right arms.

Duilius engaged one of the automatons, bashing it with his shield to knock it back. As it stumbled, he chopped at the gaps between its armour plates, hoping to damage a vital component. The other construct fired a projectile at the Dragonborn's back, but the bolt was deflected when he swung his shield to cover his back.

Lydia quickly stepped up to draw the second automaton's attention. She was quickly overpowered, resorting to hiding behind her own shield while her opponent bashed relentlessly at it. Then, a ice spike hammered into the construct, shattering harmlessly against it but enough to break its momentum. The housecarl took the opportunity, crouching down to stab her sword up behind the mechanical being's chest plate. It twitched and fell backwards, landing with a crash on the stone floor.

Over at the Dragonborn's side of the chamber, said Imperial was weaving and ducking around his opponent's rapid stabs, while returning the favour to little effect. He was barely scratching the metal, his sword failing against the stronger alloy that made up his foe. Suddenly, a small, forgotten construct pounced on the larger artificial being, throwing it across the chamber with both skidding on the oil in a pile. They crashed into a wall, and the spider-like critter jumped off, shooting a bolt of lightning that sent the larger one into a spasm. Duilius mouthed a silent thanks to the unofficial party mascot and stabbed down into the gap between his helpless opponent's head and body, finishing the fight.

He turned and saw the rest of the group approach him, having dispatched their foe as well. Together, they proceeded through the corridor leading beyond the chamber.

== Scene Break ==

The group entered what seemed to be a forge, and quickly defeated the spider-like mechanicals lurking around. At this moment they were standing before a gate, and behind it were two odd-looking metal chests.

Krosis was crouched down before the gate, staring at the chests. "Looks expensive", she mumbled. Then, she held out an open hand towards her male companion. "Would you kindly pass me a lockpick?"

Duilius raised an eyebrow, and passed her one. _How does she know that I have one? _ Krosis examined it for a moment, and started picking the lock. Lydia stared at her. "This is... weird. A Dragon Priest picking locks..." Then, a click, and the aforementioned Dragon Priest straightened herself, pushing open the gates with a small smile. She entered the small room, and examined the chests in front of her. "Locked as well? In that case..." With that, she went to work on the chests.

The Dragonborn was leaning against a wall, thinking. _Where would a priest learn how to pick locks? _Then, he laughed, drawing odd looks from his housecarl. He waved her off. _Not as if I've told anyone about __**me. **__Should I?_

Right then, Krosis floated up to him and tossed him a sword. He fumbled around for a moment, trying to get a decent grip, and took a good look at it. It was made of the same metal as the facilities in this ruin, some sort of dwemer alloy. He held up the blade, testing its edge. _Still sharp, though a bit heavier than I'm used to._ "Thanks." He nodded to the Dragon Priest and replaced his Imperial steel sword with the new acquisition, the old blade then kept in his pack.

At last, they moved on. The corridors beyond the forge room eventually lead them back to the high-ceiling chamber from before, but on the walkway build onto the wall. Dodging a few errant pistons that threatened to shove them off, the adventurers reached a door. Duilius hesitated before it. "We are probably heading into that Animonculory place. Is everyone ready?" Everyone nodded. With that, he pushed the door open, leading the way in.

== Scene Break ==

They entered another poorly-lit corridor, reverberating with the ambient sound of ancient dwarven machinery. Krosis saw a chest, and immediately approached it, rubbing her hands gleefully despite her calm expression. She was promptly disappointed when she effortlessly flipped the lid open. Duilius looked over her shoulder, and saw that there were only a few flasks of potions in the chest. Bored, he picked up an odd-looking helmet that was lying on the table and started examining it. _Odd material. Almost... organic with its texture. Unlikely to belong to the ones who built these ruins. Those seem to favour metals and rigid designs. Heavy, though._

The mechanical spider tailing the group scurried off, seeking more items for its new master. Lydia followed after it for a bit, before stopping in front of a chest-like object. It was made of a dark brown, organic-looking material, and rested on a simple frame of bones. Crouching before it, the housecarl warily prodded it with her sword, increasing the force until it suddenly toppled. She jumped back, and landed on her butt.

"What is that?" The Dragonborn approached the mysterious object. _Similar material to the helmet, huh. And is that... bone?_ He spotted the edge of what seemed to be a lid and tried to pry the chest open, to no avail. Turning to Krosis, he called her over. "This one is locked."

The Dragon Priest glided over, her hands fiddling with the lockpick idly. _Is that even a chest? Still, there is a keyhole..._ Descending upon the floor, she crouched over the toppled container, and started picking the lock. After a moment, a soft click was heard, and she opened the chest to find a small collection of precious gems. She pocketed them, and followed after her companions.

== Scene Break ==

The next room yielded nothing much compared to the chambers that preceded it, merely a couple of coins. _Not even Septims._ Duilius grumbled, as he stared at a dull copper disk imprinted with the profile of a bearded mer. _How am I supposed to use __**COPPER**__ coinage?_

Then, Krosis spotted a small tunnel built below the platform that occupied half of the room. In there, they found yet another member of the ill-fated expedition that came before them. A slight- built Bosmer male who had an arrow embedded in his shoulder. Removing the arrow from the stiff corpse, the Dragon Priest looked at the arrowhead closely. It was an asymmetrical two-pronged design that she was unfamiliar with, and it bore smears of a substance that glistened in the light. "Poison." She sniffed at the fluid. "Namira's Rot, and ... skeever tail, I think. He died rather fast, I would guess, but in a state of artificially-induced fear. Whoever made this was not a nice person." She dropped the arrow, and floated out of the tunnel.

As she ascended the stairs running up along the wall of the room to the platform above the tunnel, she came face to face with a pair of hostile automatons. Scowling, she drew her iron sword and knocked the incoming spider aside, sending it tumbling down the steps where it landed before her surprised companions. At the same time, an outstretched hand released a torrent of frost magic, encasing the humanoid construct in ice. _Well, at least that works._ As she stepped forward, Krosis viciously shoved her sword into the being's "throat". But when she pulled the blade out, it snapped, the rusted metal finally giving way. Sighing, she tossed the broken weapon aside, and made for the passageway before her. Behind her, Duilius and Lydia followed, a pile of dented scrap metal behind them indicating where the spider met its demise.

At that moment, the metal spider that had been following them returned from its foray into the ruins ahead, a fleshy object in its pincers. Krosis took it from the construct and turned it over, trying to identify it. "Is that... an ear?"

Just then, from the passage ahead came the slapping sound of bare feet, and feral snarls. A pack of three pale figures appeared from the corner in front of the Dragon Priest, and rushed up towards her. As she reached for her bow, which she hung on her shoulder, one of the approaching beings stepped on a seemingly innocuous panel. A click reverberated through the air, and the newcomers froze. Then metal blades sprouted from the very floor of the sloped corridor, right before the petite Nord, spreading out and spinning with increasing speed as they approached the strange beings. Said beings turned and fled in panic but to no avail, for the blades easily caught up with them and shredded them. Upon reaching the far end of the corridor, the deadly spinning contraption suddenly started making its way up, back towards the girl. Just before the blades reached her, the trap stopped, the blades drawn up and then withdrawn into the stone floor.

Krosis blinked, trying to comprehend the rather sudden and bizarre slaughter that just took place before her. Then, the Dragonborn and his housecarl came up from behind her. "Though I heard something... by the Nine, what happened here?" The Imperial dropped the sword in his hand, the metal clanging loudly against the masonry at his feet, as he stared at the sizable lumps of flesh littering the floor before him. The walls and even the ceiling was splattered with blood, and a head was resting at the end of the passageway. Curiously, it was missing an ear. "Did you..." The Dragon Priest shook her head. "The floor..."

Lydia shuddered, uncomfortable with the bloody mess before her, and started down the corridor in a hurry. Two steps down, just before she set down her foot, a shout came from behind. "STOP!" She froze, gently stepped back, and turned to find her Thane staring at her foot. "It's a trap", he deadpanned.

The housecarl tilted her head in confusion and turned to look at the floor before her. Right where she almost stepped down was an odd looking stone tile, bordered with metal. She then looked around, spotting several similar tiles. Cautiously, she stepped back, ending up back at the start of the corridor alongside the other two living beings in the area. As she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, their team mascot scurried down the corridor. A click later, and it was turned into scrap metal right before their eyes.

The young Nord woman wailed, the older man sighed, and the tiny hovering girl palmed her face.

**A/N: Yup! Chapter 5. This chapter took AGES to write, mainly because I actually forgot how the quest went. And damn, it is LONG! (That's what she said...) I actually had to split the pre-Blackreach portion, so yep, another chapter of annoying Dwemer ruins coming soon.**

**And as to how old the Dragonborn is, there's a storytelling scene... in the next chapter or so. All (Or most) shall be revealed then. For now... let's just say I've been dropping Great War mentions here and there, if you read closely. But admittedly, they are rare.**

**And no, he's not being paired with Krosis. (Sorry to disappoint. But the visible age gap is... too much.) For the pairings, at this point it is still 'Nothing is true, everything is permitted.' But expect obscurity.**

**Finally, about Alduin… eh… oops. I apparently accidentally nerfed him. (Thanks for pointing it out, WolFang1011~!) Let's chalk it up to Krosis' "youth", shall we? Don't worry, she's going to get a *very* abrupt reality check soon.**


	6. Hungry Hungry Falmers

**C****hapter 6 – Hungry Hungry Falmers**

**Disclaimer: **

**Nope, still don't own Skyrim. Alright?**

As the party trudged towards the bronzed monument before them, Duilius swore that the moment he was free from this whole Alduin business, he would thoroughly cleanse Tamriel of the menace that was the Falmer. Behind him, his housecarl winced, a handful of scratches on her arms promising to contribute to her collection of scars. Bringing up the rear was a cheery Dragon Priest, who had the time of her (un)life practicing Shock magic on unsuspecting devolved elves half a room away.

Stopping to observe the semicircular platform they were on, the Dragonborn muttered under his breath as he glanced up the steps leading further towards their goal. "Well, if the directions we were given are correct, we should be approaching the entrance of Blackreach soon." After a moment, "Say, is it just me, or does this statue look familiar?" Cue a loud hissing sound, that of steam escaping vents. And loud, reverberating footsteps.

"WHAT THE FUCK? What is wrong with these guys?!" The Imperial roared as he hastily backpedalled, having absently walked right up to the Centurion when it activated. "These Dwemers are CRAZY!" He dived behind a corner as a jet of oil-fuelled **fire** sprayed from the construct's "mouth" towards him.

"SHUT UP AND KILL THAT THING!" Lydia yelled in reply, pulling out a bow and shortly after, watched her arrows bounce off the ancient armour plating ineffectually. "… ALRIGHT SCREW THIS!" The housecarl tossed aside her bow, pulling out her sword and shield before charging the Dwemer creation of old.

As she prepared to launch yet another bolt of magic at the construct, Krosis idly observed that the scene before her was **rather** familiar…

++ Flashback ++

The trio, having left their sadly demised metallic friend behind (after salvaging anything of value from it, that is), were at the moment cowering behind a ramp of polished stone, inlayed with the same metal Dwemers favour for all their crafts. The reason was about a stone's throw away on the other side of said ramp. Namely, a group of Falmer archers that, either by skill or sheer luck, had managed to stagger their shots in a way that kept the party pinned behind cover.

"They should be running out of arrows soon... Right?" Lydia looked over at her Thane, flinching as a shot struck the stone barely above her head and ricocheted off. In response, Duilius peeked over the ramp, only to duck back down quickly. A volley of arrows quickly filled the space where his head used to be. _For a bunch of blind buggers, they are really good archers…_ Looking back at his housecarl, he deadpanned. "Tough luck. We seem to have walked into one of their camps…"

"Seriously? For the love of Talos, can't this place just give me a break?!" bemoaned the young Nord woman. Then, she heard a series of clicking noise that seemed like it was approaching. Looking down the next ramp and beyond, into the deep cavern, she spotted chitin. A lot of chitin. "CHAURUS! BY THE NINE WHY ARE THERE SO MANY SOMEONE KILL THEM!" she yelled, pulling out her bow and firing arrows after arrows at the incoming insect swarm to little effect as the tough natural armour repelled the rain of deadly projectiles.

== Scene Break ==

Lydia was feeling thankful that Krosis knew enough Shock magic to make quick work of the chaurus swarm, but as her feet pounded down the ancient Dwemer corridors, she wasn't too happy that those elf-like creatures seemed to have taken a page out of the Dragon Priest's book. Pausing to duck when she heard a buzz, and right on cue a bolt of lightning soared over her head. Then the howl of a winter blizzard and a series of tinkling sound told her that yet another handful of those magic-slinging ferals had been icicled by her not-quite-alive party mate.

The housecarl took a fleeting glance backwards, her feet driving her on nonstop, only to find **more** Falmer dropping from ceiling vents. She sprinted faster, and made the corner that she last saw her Thane disappear down, only to find said Imperial under the assault of another group of elves. These ones, however, showed no signs of magical ability. Giving a quick prayer to Talos, she entered the fray by Duilius' side.

Only for a bolt of lightning from behind skim the top of her helmet.

With the hairs on the back of her neck standing stiff and prickling, she gave an exasperated sigh. "Would someone please kindly KILL THEM ALREADY?!" Turning to take cover behind the Imperial's shield, she pulled out her bow and launched an arrow over the approaching Dragon Priest at one of the Falmer shamans. A ward flashed, and the arrow bounced off harmlessly.

A roar of utter frustration sounded out. "Divines take you all!"

++ End Flashback ++

_What a pity, for a proud people like the Falmer to fall into such a despicable existence. _Chuckling darkly, the waifish blonde shook her head and focused on the metal golem. Said construct was engaged in a deadly game of cat-and-mouse with both melee fighters and the humans looked to be tiring out. Drawing her bow, she let loose a shard of _slightly_ overpowered frost magic. _This should overpower whatever frost immunity bullshit these bastards are running, or at least physically break their plating._ Sadly, the clear, crystalline 'ping' when the icy projectile simply shattered against the Centurion's armour told her otherwise. "Screw this… GUYS! Time to retreat! I think we can trap him at the doorway from be…." She glanced back, and saw that said doorway was already in use. That is, by **that** coven of Falmer shaman along with even more of their spellsword guards. "-fore."

The other two, taking advantage of a slight misstep of the Centurion, glanced back and paled as they too spotted what Krosis had seen. "Speaking of a rock and a hard place…", muttered Duilius as he backpaddled before the Dwemer remnant's fist minced him against the stone floor. "We need somewhere to retreat to, and preferably somewhere this gigantic construct can't follow us into."

Then, the fun-sized ancient being realised something. Sending two spikes of ice seemingly at random spots in the ceiling, she called out calmly. "Two questions. Firstly, these Falmers are blind, right?"

"YES!" in unison, then hurried rolls in either direction from the dust cloud arising from another hammering fist. "WHAT'S THE NEXT QUESTION?!"

"Can you swim?" Eyes widen, as Nord housecarl and Imperial Thane came to the same conclusion, before both dived off the side of the platform into the rapidly flooding lower level, the water gushing out when the dragon priest had shattered the aged piping of the ruins. Both shared a thought: _I hope she knows what she's doing…_

Meanwhile, the Dragon Priest was idly waiting, levitating above the rising water level as she watched the Falmers scramble up to dry land. Right in front of a rampaging Centurion, and right where she wants them. Immediately, the horde of pale-skinned elves set themselves upon the automaton. Watching the rather one-sided fight and idly keeping count on the dwindling elven population, she used the ruckus to patch up the pipes with some Frost magic.

Finally, the Centurion staggered and slammed the last feral spellsword against the stone floor, a loud crack signalling the end of that elf's wretched existence. Krosis eyed the Centurion warily. _Still standing, though that fight certainly took its toll._ Indeed, severed ends of cables and piping were protruding from the gaps in its armour, leaking steam and oil. Its gait too was much more unsteady than before, as it turned about to look for any intruders. From the corner of the eye, she saw that her two companions had surfaced in the far corners of the chamber, safely out of the way. She retrieved her bow from her back where she stowed it and, landing on the water surface, took a firm stance on the rapidly frozen patch of liquid. _Time to end this…_

\- POV change -

From his vantage point, Duilius saw the Dragon Priest land on a recently formed platform of floating ice, bow raised towards the Dwemer construct. A rather nebulous orb of Frost magicka, one that he recognised as an Ice Storm by virtue of being on the receiving end numerous times, was in her free hand. Idly, he realised that this one seemed several magnitudes brighter.

Instead of the usual method of drawing the bow at aiming height, she instead raised the bow such that her arm was vertical, and her spell hand grasped the bowstring. As she lowered the bow back to aiming position, her other arm straining to pull back the string, a vague arrow-like region of turbulence stretched the drawn span. A released breath, the 'twang' of a string in tension, and the spell was sent flying towards the centurion. However, rather than dissipating into the usual cloud of ice he was accustomed to, it became immediately apparent that Krosis did **something** to the spell. Something that was very noticeable. Like the frost-wrought visages of twin dragons bearing down on the Centurion, snatching up the construct with their jaws, and tearing said automaton apart with great vengeance, furious anger, and a very noticeable crunch.

== Scene Break ==

Sighing, Krosis staggered for a moment before slowly trudging towards the un-flooded level of the chamber, the water beneath her feet freezing into a footpath by an absently-casted low-power Frost Cloak. _I'm glad **that** worked. It sure took a lot out of me._ As she passed the shattered remains of the Centurion, she spotted something embedded in its "forehead". Picking it up, she turned it about in her hand. Duilius and Lydia, both soaked to the bone but very grateful to be alive, came up behind her.

"A key?" the Imperial asked, glancing over the petite Nord girl's shoulder. Internally, he was both impressed by her feat moments ago, and worried that she had overdone it. Her unsteady gait did not go unnoticed by him, after all.

"So it seems. I wonder what this opens…" She pocketed the key and began to slowly climb the steps leading to the next chamber, just in time to see a man in a bulky steel cuirass fall forward into the blood pooling around him. Beside him was the body of a woman, Redguard it seems, in steel plate.

Lydia, arriving beside her, gasped as she caught sight of the man. Rushing forward past Krosis, she went up to the man and checked for any signs of life. After a while, as the others caught up to her, she sat down beside the corpse. "Dead. Probably was fighting with Umana over there." She casually jabbed a thumb towards the other body.

"I suppose we found Sulla, then?" Duilius asked, taking in the scene calmly. The Nord woman nodded dully, before getting back on her feet. Glancing at the gear the two dead combatants were clad in, the Dragonborn made a decision. "This equipment is way too valuable to leave lying around, but too heavy to lug around as well. What say we get rid of the bodies, and set up camp? Besides, we have blocked off access from the previous parts of the ruin, just in case there were any stragglers." Nods from the other two, and he started stripping down the ex-Legionnaire before pausing after a short while. "Say, what IS that noise?"

Lydia startled, before pulling off her pack and rooting around in it. After a short while, she pulled out a rather familiar orb, which was vibrating and humming. "It's coming from this…" The party looked around, before Krosis suddenly snatched the orb from the housecarl's hand. "This noise is most… irritating." Walking up to a small oblique pedestal in the middle of the chamber, she inserted the orb into the circular recess on said pedestal, watching as on the raised platform before her, an array of metal discs spun before the stone slabs around the platform lowered, forming a descending spiral stairwell. Looking down, she spotted a pair of large metal doors. "It seems like this is our path onward. I see doors at the bottom of these steps."

Duilius sighed, massaging his nose bridge. _Great, now she opens up another entrance. Still… at least the noise stopped._ "I'll take first watch. But for now, let's get rid of these corpses."

== Scene Break ==

Several hours later, after taking turns bathing at the rather expansive impromptu bathtub, the group was sitting beside a warm fire, sharing food, mead, and stories. Black-Briar Special Reserve, the good stuff. After all, one entrance into their current chamber (the lift) was locked, one (Blackreach) was frozen shut by a certain pint-sized ancient mage, and one (Alftand) was flooded over.

"So, I was watching the lads swing their wooden swords around, and before we knew it one of them accidentally struck Adrianne on the back. Fell on her face, she did." Lydia laughed, sipping from her bottle. "Everyone thought the new girl was gonna go cry to daddy when she ran back home, but then she came stalking back with this absolutely calm expression and a horrifyingly BIG sword in her hand. An orcish design, if I remember correctly, though it probably was just a normal one-hander now that I think about it. And that was when the boys realised, they fucked up. Since then, every kid in Whiterun knew. You *don't* fuck with Adrianne." Peering down her bottle, the Nord snorted before tossing it aside. "So… what about you, Krosis? Childhood back in your days should be interesting."

The platinum blonde shook her head. "Not much to tell, really. My parents died when I was really young, dad on the voyage down from Atmora, Mum when giving birth to me." Cue awkward silence. "I… I'm sorry… didn't realise…" Lydia stammered out.

"It is alright. Time long past, really."

"That's certainly true." muttered Duilius. Thank the Divines that Dwemers kept such shiny metal surfaces, the opportunity to shave was greatly appreciated. Sitting down by the fire, he picked up a bottle of mead and popped the cork, taking a sip. "Good stuff. So, we are trading stories now?"

"Yeah. So, Thane-" Duilius gave Lydia a flat look. "... right, Duilius. Any interesting tales to share?"

In the background, Krosis was adjusting the fit of a circlet clearly a bit too big for her. Pressing her weight on the circlet for a moment, bracing the accessory on the ground, she managed to close it up sufficiently, and gave it another go. She shuddered as a sudden wave of energy flowed through her, unnoticed by the others. 'Wow... The arch-mage is either a master of enchanting, or VERY rich...'

"Well, in that case let me tell you about the time when Ulfric almost got eaten by a scamp?"

Lydia gaped. "Wait... Ulfric as in Ulfric Stormcloak? You knew him?"

"Yeah, back in the Imperial Legion, before he became Jarl of... Windhelm, right? We were both fresh recruits, midway through the Great War. And as is the case with all wars, we were quickly pushed up the ranks as our field commanders died. In two years I was the Tribune leading the 4th Company, 8th Imperial Legion. Gods know where ole Stormcloak went.

"We were part of the troops tasked with defending the Temple District in the Imperial City, when the Dominion forces broke their way through into the city. It was a bloody massacre. I sort of lost track of what exactly happened, what with messengers coming in reporting the city districts rapidly falling into Dominion hands and everything in chaos. Eventually they broke into the Temple District, and all Oblivion broke loose. Imagine an utter mess of street fighting, with magic being slung around like nobody's business. Smoke and corpses everywhere, and I remember wondering if the stone avenues were red to begin with.

"Sometime during the battle, something must have knocked me out after we retreated all the way into the Temple of the Nine, as it was called back then. When I came to, I was buried under a pile of corpses. My own men, mind you. All dead. I was but 17."

Throughout his recounting, his audience was transfixed. "Then what happened after that?" asked Lydia.

"I managed to sneak out of the city, and left Cyrodiil altogether. Travelled a bit, took up some mercenary work, fought against the Dominion in Hammerfell up till the Second Treaty of Stros M'Kai. And learnt never to underestimate a Redguard woman, but that's another story for another time. So yes, that was me until the whole Skyrim fiasco recently."

"What… fiasco?" asked Krosis, slightly confused.

"Bundled up along with the Stormcloaks at the Morrowind border by the Legion welcoming committee, managed to sit through an entire carriage ride to Helgen without ole Stormcloak himself recognising me, stared the now-General Tullius in the face and by Oblivion time wasn't kind to him, and met my first dragon. Then I met with this wee lass-" "Hey!" yelled the young housecarl indignantly. "... went adventuring, and was slapped by a dragon priest. Or priestess, now that we know for certain."

"You met a dragon?" asked Krosis, raising an eyebrow. "Who?"

"How in Oblivion would I know? Black scales, spikey, pyromaniac, like to raise dragons from the dead –"

At that, the Dragon Priest blinked, then deadpanned. "Congratulations. You survived Alduin."

"What."

"... So, how DID Ulfric Stormcloak nearly get eaten up by a scamp?" asked Lydia, slightly anxious about how the topic was skipped.

Chuckling, Duilius took another gulp of mead. "Well, it went like this. We were at a small settlement close to Black Marsh, and there was this rather comely tavern wench. At least, according to the Argonian who was in our platoon back then..."

== Scene Break ==

The next "day", or so the party assumed as such, began with stripping the corpses of the two combatants they saw. "Hmmmm... Interesting shield. Those spikes would definitely do some damage. Not quite my style, though. Lydia, you want this?"

"Sure! Hey Krosis, need a new sword? This Imperial steel is pretty well maintained."

"Steel? Oh finally..."

Duilius stared up at the dragon priest who was kneeling on the other side of Umana's corpse, picking through the dead woman's purse. "You know I have one of those, right? One that I'm currently not using."

"Spares are good. But that guy over there doesn't need his anymore."

"Fair enough."

"Hey Duilius, I was just wondering... Did you know this guy too? You know, fellow Legionnaire and all..." Lydia gave the straps holding the Imperial heavy armour a few more tugs, then gave up. "And you better come undo his armour yourself. Can't work the straps."

Duilius finished up with removing the dead Redguard's plate armour, and strolled over to the ex-Legionnaire. "Sulla Trebatius? Hmmmm... Oh! That legendary twat from the 4th Vanguard Company! Yeah, I think most people knew him, if only by reputation. Dishonourable discharge, one year after I joined up. I heard he was caught ... fornicating with an enemy Bosmer scout in his commanding officer's tent. During battle. At least, that was how the story went."

"... The heck." Lydia stared at her Thane, gobsmacked.

"... Not unusual, actually. I myself have found one or two of my troops relieving stress mid-battle. One of which with my superior." Muttered Krosis absently.

Now it was Duilius' turn to stare in shock. "But... you are a dragon priest..."

Nod.

"And your soldiers are human..."

Another nod. "Do I need to clarify further?"

"No! Fuck, no! Thank you!" The Dragonborn groaned. "I don't even know how that works. I mean, you guys worshipped dragons. Wasn't he ..."

"No? I meant Konahrik. Wartime protocol, remember?"

"Oh thank the gods..."

"It's interesting how your mind went that direction immediately, though..."

"... Gods damn it."

Beside him, Lydia stopped to catch her breath, before breaking out into another giggling fit.

"To be fair, I don't actually blame him that much. That woman certainly had her charms..."

"So what happened to him?" asked Duilius. "I'm wondering how you guys handled it, back in those days."

"Oh? They ended up getting married. I believe you know him, he went by the name Rahgot last time I saw him..."

"Him?!/THAT MOTHERFUCKER?!" yelled both Lydia and the Dragonborn.

"Yu~up, that was him. Though… I always wondered why he walked funny after their sessions…"

Duilius blanched. "I… have no idea either. At all. Absolutely not a clue." Beside him, Lydia was looking a little pale too, and shaking her head profusely.

== Scene Break ==

After sorting out the equipment, and picking out a few for themselves, the party decided to head up the locked lift for a quick look. A **very **quick look.

"Geez… that was COLD!" muttered the Dragonborn, rubbing his hands together and shivering. "The damn thing HAD to open up to the top of a mountain, didn't it."

The pair of Nord females behind him was giggling madly, whispering about "Imperial weaklings".

"I can hear you two you know?"

Picking up their gear, they headed down the spiral stairs. At the bottom, Duilius placed his hands on the door, and glanced back. "This is it. Last leg of this bloody fetch mission. And so far it has been wayyyyy too easy."

"Except for the charus." Muttered Lydia darkly. "And the Falmers. And the Centurion."

"And the Falmers, and the Falmers again, and the Falmers once more~~" Krosis followed after the Nord housecarl in a singsong manner, earning a dark glare that she cheerfully ignored.

"So, remind me again. What did I always say about fetch missions?" Duilius ignored the byplay, keeping his eyes on the bronze-like doors.

"They **always** fuck up?" replied Krosis and Lydia, in unison.

"Indeed… so, brace yourselves." And as he said that, the Dragonborn pushed the doors open, the pathway leading … to more stairs.

Silence echoed through the doorway, before Krosis chirped. "Excuse me, but did anyone find out just how *deep* this Blackreach is?"

**A/N: In case you guys** **were wondering, yes, I edited Chapter 2. ONE bloody word opened up a plot hole a mile wide. I patched it up sufficiently, I hope. Thanks to MirwenAnareth, for spotting it.**

**Also, thanks to you guys too, for staying on! Apologies for leaving you people hanging. This chapter took ages... *phew*. Mostly due to Real Life™.**** Including an unexpected exam resit. ****Next up... Blackreach. *dum dum dum...***


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